


take a breath, count to ten, take a step

by tigriswolf



Series: Alternate Universe [55]
Category: Glee, Princess Diaries - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Princess Diaries Fusion, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Crossover, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Stealth Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-14
Updated: 2012-03-14
Packaged: 2017-11-01 22:19:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 29,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/361901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/pseuds/tigriswolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three weeks into senior year, a grandmother Blaine never knew about throws his life completely off-course: she tells him she’s a queen, he’s a prince, and one day, he’ll be king of a tiny little European nation called Genovia.  </p><p>Naturally, things do not go smoothly from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Title** : take a breath, count to ten, take a step  
>  **Fandom** : Glee/The Princess Diaries movieverse  
>  **Disclaimer** : if you recognize someone s/he is probably not my character.  
>  **Warnings** : AU for Glee – some season 3 incorporated, but Blaine’s a senior, Lauren’s in New Directions, Sam never moved away, Karofsky still attends McKinley, and Rory’s at a different American school; based more on the Princess Diaries movies but I snagged some things from the books – AU for both of those, as well; remembered violence/homophobia; remembered thoughts of suicide/self-harm  
>  **Pairings** : Kurt/Blaine, Burt/Carole, Finn/Rachel, various canon background pairings  
>  **Rating** : PG13  
>  **Wordcount** : 28641  
>  **Point of view** : third  
>  **Notes** : so many thanks to mynorthwind for being my sounding board! And thanks to fabfemmeboy for the fashion help. Art by nickershnick25 and the mix by musicsage92 at my lj.  
>  **More notes** : considering the fact that the movies totally messed up the process of succession, I’m pretty sure it’s okay that I may have messed up the process of annulling a marriage. Also, I could not find any info about a zoo in Lima; therefore, I made one up. And Blaine and his dad moved to Lima when Blaine transferred. Because they’re rich. Or something. *handwaves* Also also, I play fast-and-loose with some legal things and the texts are grammatically incorrect on purpose.

Three weeks into senior year, Dad said, “Blaine, your grandmother has come to see you. You’ll go to the Hilton tomorrow afternoon and meet with her.”

Blaine frowned. “Why doesn’t she just come here? And which grandmother?” Mom’s mom, Grandmom, visited last year and Dad’s mom, Grandma, left three months ago. Neither of them would stay at a hotel.

Dad stared at him for a long time before looking away. “Go to school, son,” he said, voice breaking on the last word.

.

Kurt met him in the parking lot. They always parked next to each other so they could walk in together. “I have to cancel for tomorrow afternoon,” Blaine said, holding the door open for Kurt. “Apparently, my grandmother is in town. I’ve been ordered to see her.”

“Which grandmother?” Kurt asked, deftly dancing away from a slushy. They were few and far between this year; Puck and Karofsky, for some reason nobody knew, teamed up to take down bullying. Lauren Zizes seemed to be their boss, and Blaine knew from Kurt that the three of them agreeing on _anything_ was a terrifying prospect. But it seemed to be working.

“Hey, scumbag!” Lauren yelled from down the hall. “You just made my list.”

Kurt and Blaine watched the guy pale and attempt to run, only to hit Karofsky’s chest and bounce backwards. Kurt tugged on Blaine’s hand so they could continue to Kurt’s locker.

Blaine’s locker was further on in the school, so they usually went to Kurt’s first. Blaine’s was close to Kurt’s first class, so it gave them a little more time. They had the same subjects except for Kurt’s French and Blaine’s art, but none at the same time except glee. It was incredibly frustrating, especially since – even almost a month into the school year – none of the other members of New Directions had really warmed up to him. After his popularity at Dalton, it was odd to be on the bottom again. He’d started dreaming about the Sadie Hawkins dance and angry, judgmental eyes again, ever since he started at McKinley, not that he told anyone. He’d even considered asking Dad about going back to Dr. Johan.

But he had promised Dad he could handle McKinley. Face his demons head-on and win.

So Blaine held Kurt’s hand in the halls. Kissed him in the choir room. Looked everyone in the eyes, head raised high, and didn’t let _anything_ get to him.

“Which grandmother, Blaine?” Kurt asked again, closing his locker.

“Oh, right,” Blaine said, smiling at the quick glance he got of Kurt’s _Blaine &Kurt Forever_ collage on the inside of Kurt’s locker. It always made something inside his heart glow to see it. “I don’t know,” he answered. “Dad wouldn’t say. But Grandmom went back to San Francisco and Grandma was in Paris, as of her last postcard.”

“A mystery,” Kurt announced in a dramatic voice. “Maybe there’s some major family secret you never knew, but they’re finally about to tell you.”

Blaine rolled his eyes, scoffing. “Right. The Anderson family is _known_ for its drama, believe you me.”

Kurt laughed, leaning against the locker next to Blaine’s. “Maybe one of your grandmothers is secretly a lesbian – or bi,” he quickly added off Blaine’s look, “and her lover has come to track you down.”

Blaine shook his head. “I’ll find out tomorrow,” he said. “Did you finally defeat the physics problem?” 

Scowling, Kurt said, “I hate physics. It makes no sense.”

Blaine smiled at him, closing the locker and taking his hand again. “At least you can speak four languages fluently,” he consoled Kurt. “I can’t make heads or tails of anything but English.”

.

After school, whenever there wasn’t a glee meeting, they went to Kurt’s house. Finn usually had football or a study date with Rachel, and Kurt’s dad never came home till after five. It was Kurt’s stepmom’s last night of the late shift this month, so she said goodbye as they walked in the door.

Kurt always had some healthy treat prepared and they sat at the kitchen table, working and studying and laughing and singing, and Blaine had no idea at _all_ why Kurt loved him. Why Kurt waited for him to catch up and catch on. Why Kurt stayed with him. Kurt had a glamorous future waiting – he would one day realize he could do better than Blaine.

“Sweetie,” Kurt said. “Did French hurt your feelings again? You look sad.”

Blaine shook his head. “No,” he said. “I’m just being silly.”

.

On Tuesday, Blaine went to the Hilton instead of Kurt’s house. He stopped at the front desk to say, “Hi. My grandmother is waiting for me somewhere? I’m Blaine Anderson.”

The woman’s eyes widened. “Oh, yes, Mr. Anderson! Please follow me.” She hurried from behind the desk and led him to the elevator, to the second floor, down the hall, and to a meeting room, where two men stood next to the door, one in a suit and the other wearing a leather jacket.

Blaine nervously looked at his guide. She smiled at him. “This is _Blaine Anderson_ ,” she said to the men, stressing his name.

The leather jacket opened the door. “Your grandmother is waiting,” he said, a faint accent flavoring the words.

Blaine swallowed, trying to smile. “Thanks,” he said, walking in.

The only person in the room was sitting at a table in the middle, elegantly sipping her tea.

“Um, excuse me,” Blaine said, stopping just inside the door. “I was told my grandmother was waiting for me in here?”

“I am,” Queen Clarisse Renaldo of Genovia said. “Come in and sit with me, Blaine. We have much to discuss.” 

“You’re… you’re my grandmother?” Blaine asked. “But that’s impossible. You’re the Queen of Genovia.”

“You know of Genovia?” Queen Clarisse said. “Please, Blaine, have a seat.”

Blaine walked to the table on autopilot. Kurt would _freak out_ when he heard. The chair scraped the floor as Blaine pulled it out; he winced, but Queen – _Queen_! – Clarisse didn’t react.

“My son Philippe insisted on traveling the world,” Queen Clarisse said, sipping her tea. Blaine let his cup sit in front of him untouched. If he tried, he’d just make a mess. “He wanted to go adventuring, the silly boy.” She smiled at him. “He met your mother in California. They had a whirlwind romance and wed – they annulled the marriage a few weeks later and then he moved on.”

“I’m sorry, _what_?” Blaine demanded.

Queen Clarisse looked completely calm. “Philippe died seven years ago. As I sorted his things, I found a stack of love notes – my son always was old fashioned. I’ll give them to you, of course.”

Blaine wanted to interrupt again, but Queen Clarisse’s eyes bored into him, so he kept quiet. 

“Maria Wilkes gave birth six months after Philippe left. She married Robert Anderson two years later and he adopted her child. You know what happened next,” Queen Clarisse said.

Yes, Blaine knew. Mom died when he was eleven – apparently the same year as his biological father. What the hell. 

“There must be some mistake,” Blaine said. “I can’t be – are you sure?”

Queen Clarisse smiled at him again. “The head of my security followed Philippe on his adventure. Joseph was simply the best of our men then. He was the one Philippe went to when he learned of your existence. We have known of you from the beginning, Blaine.” She poured herself more tea from the pot in the middle of the table, continuing, “I know this is a shock, my dear. But _you_ are the only child of _my_ only child, and therefore, you are the sole heir to the throne of Genovia.”

Blaine stared at her, mouth open, as he struggled to find suitable words. He had the feeling that yelling, _What the fuck are you on, lady?!_ wouldn’t go over well.

Finally, he pushed back his chair, said quite calmly, “Excuse me, Your Majesty,” and strode from the room. He ignored the men and everyone else he saw, and next thing he knew, he was at Kurt’s house, slumped against the door, with no idea how he got there.

And then Kurt opened the door, catching Blaine as he fell in. 

.

Blaine was pliant in Kurt’s hands as Kurt pulled Blaine up the stairs and gently shoved him onto the bed, following him down. Kurt positioned them with Blaine as the little spoon and hummed into Blaine’s ear, holding him.

It calmed Blaine, allowing him to think.

Queen Clarisse had no reason to lie to Blaine. Therefore, she did not lie. And Dad knew yesterday. Which meant Dad could have told him.

“Dad’s not my dad,” Blaine said.

Kurt stopped humming immediately and his hands tightened around Blaine’s. 

“I mean, he adopted and raised me, so he’s my _dad_ , but not biologically. And my biological father’s mom is the mysterious third grandmother.” He was getting hysterical so he took a deep breath.

Kurt kissed the back of his neck and murmured, “Is she a nasty ogress I have to defeat?”

Blaine laughed, turning in Kurt’s grip to kiss his lips. They did that for a little while, and then Blaine rested his head on Kurt’s chest. “Do you remember,” he asked, “when you made me memorize all the royals left in the world?”

“And then I quizzed you about them? You never got more than seventy percent right.” Kurt laughed, tangling his right hand in Blaine’s ungelled hair.

“Queen Clarisse of Genovia met me at the Hilton today,” Blaine said.

Kurt’s hand and chest both stilled. “You… are you joking?” he whispered, staring at Blaine.

Blaine shook his head, slowly lifting his gaze to Kurt’s face. “Her son is my bio-dad, and she’s known my whole life.” He facepalmed. “I left before she could get past ‘Blaine, you’re the only heir,’” he mumbled into his hand.

Kurt still stared at him. “You’re the heir of Genovia?” he asked, voice faint. “Blaine, the national language is _French_.”

“What?” Blaine whined. “Really? _Man_.”

They looked at each other for a long moment before collapsing together, laughing.

When they finally caught their breaths, Kurt looked up the Hilton’s number and dialed, then held his phone to Blaine’s ear.

“Um, hi,” Blaine said when a woman answered. “This is Blaine Anderson. I was there earlier to see my grandmother. I kinda… ran away. Is she still there?”

“Yes, Mr. Anderson,” the woman said after only a small hesitation. “If you’d like, she can meet you back in the conference room.”

“Um, okay.” Blaine looked at Kurt. “Maybe an hour? Would that be alright?”

“Of course, Mr. Anderson.” The woman paused. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No, thank you. I’ll be there in an hour,” Blaine said.

Kurt hung up and dropped the phone onto the bed. “An hour,” he repeated.

Blaine nodded. “Please come with me,” he begged, giving Kurt his best puppy eyes. “I can’t face her alone.”

Kurt’s whole face lit up. “Really?”

Blaine nodded again, unable to stop himself from kissing Kurt again. A few minutes passed before Kurt gasped into his mouth and yelped, “Blaine, I can’t meet a _queen_ dressed like _this_!”

.

As they sat in the car, Kurt asked, “How do you want to play this?”

Blaine looked at him. “Kurt,” he said, “you’re my… everything. And I’ll tell her so. I’m not gonna lie about you, or hide you.”

Kurt smiled his surprised, breathtaking smile and lunged into Blaine’s arms for a few more minutes of kissing.

.

Blaine and Kurt walked into the lobby holding hands. Blaine led the way to the elevator, Kurt hit the button for the second floor, Blaine slowly walked down the hall to the door with the men standing on either side, and the leather jacket from before said, “She’s waiting.” His eyes glanced from their clasped hands to Blaine’s nervous and defiant expression, and he smiled.

“We’ve known about you from the beginning, Your Highness,” he said gently.

Oh. _Oh_. Blaine saw the same realization on Kurt’s face, and both their grips tightened. Kurt smiled at the man and he nodded. “Both of you may enter.”

Kurt said, “Thank you, sir,” squeezing Blaine’s hand. Blaine took a deep breath, and then he stepped through the door.

Queen Clarisse sat at the same table, sipping tea. “Welcome back,” she said, bestowing upon them a gracious smile.

“Your Majesty,” Kurt said, bowing. “I’m Kurt Hummel.”

“I know,” Queen Clarisse said, setting her teacup down. “Joseph researched you quite heavily when you finally caught my grandson.”

Kurt’s grip tightened on Blaine’s hand again. “Do I meet your approval?” he asked, voice brittle.

“Yes, Mr. Hummel,” she said warmly. “Joseph was most impressed with you.”

Kurt’s grip eased and he began to brighten. “Really?” he asked softly. 

Queen Clarisse smiled at him, like a benevolent grandmother. “There is a great deal of potential in you, Mr. Hummel. You’re wonderful for Blaine.” 

Practically bouncing in place, Kurt positively lit up. It was a thousand times how he acted after Blaine said yes to Prom. 

“Both of you,” Queen Clarisse said, “sit. We have much to discuss.”

Blaine waited for Kurt to move. Kurt tugged him forward, pulling out two chairs, and Blaine nervously fidgeted. Kurt reached out for his hand with a smile, and Blaine inhaled slowly. After a moment, he looked at his grandmother.

“In a month’s time,” Queen Clarisse said, “we shall announce that our lost prince has been found.”

Kurt looked at Blaine, then Queen Clarisse, then Blaine again. “Why a month?” he asked.

“To prepare him, of course,” Queen Clarisse said. “He must learn the history of Genovia, the policies and practices – the language, if nothing else,” she added with a raise brow.

Blaine flushed. Kurt said, “I can teach him French, Your Majesty. I’m fluent.”

“Are you indeed?” Queen Clarisse asked, delightedly. “Joseph found Spanish and German, but you’re still taking French at school.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Kurt ducked his head, a light blush on his cheeks. Blaine had to look away so he wouldn’t ravish his boyfriend in front of his grandmother the queen. “I take French for fun,” Kurt explained. “My mother taught me the basics, the rest I learned from books.”

Queen Clarisse said, “Oh, splendid.” If she were less dignified, Blaine thought, she might even clap her hands. “Say something, my dear,” she ordered.

Kurt rattled off an entire paragraph and Queen Clarisse actually laughed. “Marvelous,” she said. “You sound like a Frenchman. Very well, Mr. Hummel. You shall teach Blaine the language of his people while I deal with the rest.”

Blaine reached for Kurt’s hand. “Your Majesty,” he said hesitantly. “How will… I won’t lie about Kurt. I won’t hide him.”

Queen Clarisse smiled again. “Genovia has progressed quite far, Blaine. A few holdouts linger, of course, but most are in the twenty-first century. Heirs can be created in more than one way, after all.”

Blaine felt himself blush, but Kurt stroked his fingers, leaning over to whisper, “I love you.”

.

Kurt and Blaine stayed an hour more, discussing literature and fashion and football versus polo. Blaine did like Queen Clarisse, but he couldn’t call her Grandma and he didn’t yet love her. They scheduled the next meeting for Thursday afternoon; testing, the queen said, only herself and Blaine needed.

Blaine kissed Kurt goodbye in the parking lot. “I’ll see you tomorrow at school,” Blaine promised. 

As he turned away, Kurt caught his hand. “We can skip tomorrow, if you want,” he said. “We can go somewhere only we know.”

Blaine chuckled. “This isn’t the end of anything,” he said, pulling Kurt close and resting his cheek on Kurt’s shoulder. “I might be the heir, but it’s not for a long while. First, I have to finish high-school and college.”

A horrible, terrible thought occurred to him and he reached up, fingers grasping Kurt’s shirt. “Do you want… you don’t have to stay.”

Kurt smacked the back of Blaine’s head. “Of course I’m staying – do you know how rarely a knight in shining armor turns out to be a prince?”

Blaine halfheartedly chuckled into his shoulder. “I don’t want to chain you to me, Kurt.”

“Oh, Blaine,” Kurt sighed. “You’re not _chaining_ to me anything. I’m right where I want to be, and with exactly who I want to be with.” He pressed a soft kiss to the side of Blaine’s head.

“And what about your magazine,” Blaine demanded, pulling away. He was suddenly so _angry_ – a grandmother he’d never known just stole any future he thought he might have. He refused to steal Kurt’s, too. “What about Broadway, or all your plays.”

Kurt grabbed his hands. “Blaine,” he said gently. “You silly boy. Genovia is world-renowned for its _arts_.”

“Oh,” Blaine said after a moment.

Kurt laughed softly. “Go home, Blaine. Talk to your dad – politely, if you can manage it. Eat a good supper, take a hot shower, go to bed early.” He squeezed Blaine’s hands, lifting both to kiss each knuckle. Then he said, “We’ll skip tomorrow. Meet me at the library on Pritchard. We’ll research the kingdom we’ll one day rule.”

“Okay,” Blaine murmured. He allowed himself one more invigorating kiss, then he pulled away, climbed heavily into his car, and drove home.

.

Dad was sitting in the den, holding an unopened Coke. “Blaine,” Dad said. “You met her?”

“I did,” Blaine replied. “You should’ve told me.”

Dad stared at the Coke, twisting the can around in his fingers. “I adopted you when you were three,” he said. “I raised you, and I love you. I _am_ your father.”

Blaine shook his head. “Not about that, Dad – I know you’re my dad.” He paused, looking down. “She’s an actual _queen_. And I’m her only grandchild.” The words loomed, but he forced himself to say them. “I’m her heir, and she’s going to claim me, and I’m a prince.” He collapsed on the couch, covering his face with his hand. “Holy crap.” 

How could this happen? Dorks couldn’t be princes. That _had_ to be a rule. Princes were solemn and serious. They surely didn’t serenade closeted boys at the mall, or write terrible odes to a certain boy’s sea-sheened eyes (seriously, what _is_ that even? Blaine still hadn’t worked up the courage to let Kurt see that one). 

Princes were like Charles, and William, and Harry – and oh, but Blaine used to have _such_ a crush on Harry. Princes weren’t boys who got bullied out of a school. 

Queen Clarisse had to be wrong. If anyone in Lima was the long-lost heir of a throne, it would’ve been Kurt. 

“Blaine,” Dad said. “She and her Head of Security showed me everything.” He stood and walked over, sitting next to Blaine. “You _are_ her grandson.” 

Blaine shook his head, eyes starting to water. The panic and anger faded, leaving only a burgeoning sense of melancholy. Everything he thought he knew was a lie. Whatever future he’d had was gone now.

During his royalty lessons, Kurt had explained about Genovia. An unbroken family line had ruled for almost three hundred years, and ruled well. Genovia had escaped most of the wars that plagued Europe, and had actually taken in refugees. It was a good place. But Kurt had also mentioned the Parliament, and how some people thought a few power-hungry nobles were circling around for the throne. And since Queen Clarisse had no living heir…

Well. Blaine couldn’t very well leave a power void for the unscrupulous to battle over. The whole country could sink into turmoil. He had to at least see Genovia in person before making a final decision.

“Blaine,” Dad said, putting on arm around him. “It’ll be alright, I promise.”

Sighing, Blaine just leaned against him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Wednesday morning, Mercedes waited by the door of her English class until the bell rang; Kurt didn’t show up.

On Wednesday morning, Mercedes waited by the door of her English class until the bell rang; Kurt didn’t show up. She checked her phone as she sat down, just in case, but there was no text. And after he’d cut their call short the previous afternoon, and then ignored her calls to find out what was wrong… she sighed, putting her phone back in her bag. 

She’d liked Blaine well enough when he was at Dalton. She’d liked him a bit less when _Kurt_ went to Dalton. But he’d sung a beautiful goodbye when Kurt came home, and she’d hoped – 

“Mercedes?” Mrs. Quincy said. “What was Jane’s motivation in chapter sixteen?” 

Pulling an answer out of her ass, Mercedes quickly shut down all thoughts of Blaine Anderson.

.

Kurt never showed up at school. Tina mentioned it at lunch, but there was some new drama between Rachel, Quinn, Santana, and Finn (and Puck egging it on), so her concerns about Kurt and Blaine were pushed aside. As they cleared up their trash, though, Finn did mention that Kurt had been acting oddly last night. He immediately got distracted by Karofsky walking too close or something (even though Karofsky seemed to have figured himself out and decided to help Lauren and Puck continue the Bully-Whips), and stormed off before finishing. 

Mercedes sighed.

.

Sitting in History without Kurt was supremely boring. He knew just how to wind up Mrs. Weinstein. But he was still ignoring her texts, and it was starting to piss her off. 

Of course he didn’t show up to glee practice either, and when she muttered about Blaine stealing him, Finn ran with it, until finally Mr. Schue had to bring him back on topic.

But, really – Mercedes was so tired of Blaine taking up all of Kurt’s time. Their last three plans were all interrupted or dropped completely, and Kurt didn’t have the excuse of never seeing Blaine to use anymore.

She missed her best friend, and yes, she felt guilty for failing so bad last year. But how could she ever make up for that if Kurt kept ditching her for his boyfriend? 

“C’mon, guys!” Mr. Schue said. “We need to get this next verse – it’ll be killer at sectionals.” 

And once again, thoughts about how annoying Kurt’s boyfriend was had distracted her. She firmly pushed her gripes away and focused.

.

On Thursday, Mercedes refused to speak to Kurt. She turned her head away when he walked up to her in the halls; after a moment, he sighed, muttered, “Fine,” and walked into class.

She watched him then followed, choosing a different desk than her usual next to him. He sighed heavily, pulled out _Jane Eyre_ , and proceeded to ignore her for the rest of class.

She ignored him, too.

.

Lunch was uncomfortable, but Brittany chattered at Kurt about cats, Mike added a few comments on breeds, and Blaine ate silently next to him. Mercedes talked to Tina, who glanced between her and Kurt a few times, but didn’t ask, thankfully. 

Finn glared at Blaine most of the time, but Blaine didn’t seem to notice.

.

At glee, Blaine stumbled over the lyrics a little bit. Mercedes felt a tiny thrill, and Finn ribbed Blaine a little, but Sam asked if they could run through it again. “I think I messed up,” he said, and Mercedes grabbed his hand so she could squeeze it. “You sounded awesome, baby,” she told him. He grinned at her.

Damn, but her boy was sweet. 

(At the end of practice, Kurt and Blaine left without saying goodbye.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Wednesday morning, Blaine met Kurt at the public library on Pritchard.

On Wednesday morning, Blaine met Kurt at the public library on Pritchard. They went across the street for breakfast; Blaine picked nervously at his blueberry muffin and didn’t even notice how quickly he drained his coffee. Kurt finally put a hand on his and said, “Blaine.”

“Yeah,” he replied, jerking his head up. 

Kurt smiled at him. “Quit worrying. Today is simply a fact-gathering mission. A history lesson, if you will.” He sipped his own coffee. “I can tell you that Genovia split from France almost three hundred years ago.”

Blaine nodded. “I remember. Same family of rulers the whole time, right?”

“Yup.” Kurt patted his hand and pulled back. “The Renaldo family managed to avoid every war and became a non-mountainous Switzerland. Impressive, really.” He neatly cut into his own banana-nut muffin. “The Parliament has some say, but the sovereign can overrule. And the Parliament cannot overrule the sovereign. Luckily for Genovia, all of the royals have been decent, if not downright awesome.”

Blaine sighed. “Yeah,” he muttered, abandoning his muffin for good. “Awesome.” ‘Til him. He’d run the place right into the ground. 

“Blaine,” Kurt said sharply. “Don’t panic and don’t worry. What is today?”

“A fact-gathering mission and a history lesson,” Blaine repeated dutifully.

“Precisely,” Kurt said. He finished his last bite of muffin and gathered up their trash. “Come along, sweetie,” Kurt said as he walked back to the table, holding out a hand.

Blaine drudged up a smile and clasped Kurt’s hand tightly. “I’m sorry I’m so grumpy this morning,” he said quietly. 

Kurt smiled. “Blaine, it’s alright. Everything will be okay. Promise.” 

.

Kurt took over an entire table, set up his laptop, and began gathering books. He searched the online catalogue, jotted down numbers or placed a hold, and sent Blaine into the stacks. Blaine watched Kurt sort the books and mark pages, until he had a small pile of European histories. 

“C’mon,” Kurt said, pulling Blaine into the chair next to him. “Read.”

So Blaine read. Kurt made lesson-plans for French and Blaine flipped through a dry book about European royalty – and there was his family, all descended from Louis Renaldo. His throat caught as he stared at some great-grandfather’s name. 

His family was _royalty_. 

“Blaine,” Kurt said softly, putting his arm around Blaine. “Calm down. It’s just history.” 

Blaine nodded, closing his eyes and slowing his breathing. Kurt pulled the book out of his hands. “We’ve been here for hours,” he said. “Let’s take a break for lunch.”

.

They went to the same deli for lunch; Blaine was ravenous, so he actually ate this time. Kurt chatted at him about fashion and his latest idea for a musical – nothing Blaine hadn’t heard before, but he listened with relief because it had _nothing_ to do with his suddenly multiple dads, his new grandma, or a throne across an ocean and ruling a people whose language he didn’t know.

After lunch, back at the library, Kurt gathered up the checkoutable books, saved his notes on the laptop, copied a few pages, returned the reference materials, and checked-out half a dozen books. Blaine followed his instructions and drove on ahead to his house, using his copy of the key to get in. He went up to Kurt’s room and buried himself beneath Kurt’s covers, singing his favorite Pink songs quietly to himself.

He needed to find some semblance of control. He could _not_ keep freaking out all over the place. So, he had secretly been the heir of a small, rich nation his whole life. So his father wasn’t actually related to him at all. So he would one day be a king. 

All things considered, it could be _so_ much worse. 

At least he had Kurt. 

Kurt, who quietly walked in. Blaine watched him take off the top few layers and put them away, and then he slipped under the blankets next to Blaine and snuggled in. 

“How you doin’?” he murmured into Blaine’s neck, pressing a soft kiss to his skin. 

“I’ve been better,” he whispered, shifting to fit beneath Kurt’s chin. “I just… I don’t want to mess up, Kurt. And Dad lied to me. My entire life… I just. I don’t know.”

Kurt tightened his arms, humming a short lullaby. “Just rest, sweetie,” he said. “I’m sure you didn’t sleep much last night. I’ll be right here.” He hummed some more and Blaine closed his eyes, listening, safe and warm and loved.

.

“Wake up, Blaine,” Kurt said, kissing the end of Blaine’s nose. “Time for a short French lesson before you go home.” 

“Don’ wanna,” Blaine mumbled, rolling over to bury his face in Kurt’s pillow.

Kurt laughed softly. “Don’t want to work on French or don’t want go home?”

“Either,” Blaine said into the pillow. “Neither. Both.”

Kurt laughed again, leaning over to kiss to the back of Blaine’s neck. “We napped for almost five hours, you know. Finn and Rachel will be home soon. We’re probably in trouble for missing practice.”

Blaine sighed heavily, rolling back over. He pouted up at Kurt; Kurt dove down to steal a kiss, so Blaine pulled him all the way down, snickering when Kurt landed on him. 

“How old are you, again?” Kurt demanded, but Blaine saw the smile on the edge of his mouth and had to kiss it. 

“Oh, fine,” Kurt breathed, “if you want to scar my brother, we can worry about French later.” 

Blaine couldn’t resist. “ _Or_ we could French now.” 

Kurt slugged his arm, but didn’t pull away, and didn’t hide his smile. 

.

Blaine stayed late, trying to bury himself in Kurt’s family. Kurt’s stepmom reminded him of his own mother in all the best ways, and tonight, the remembrance was bittersweet.

Had his mother known her first husband was a prince? Would she have told Blaine, if she had? Would she fight Queen Clarisse now, keep Blaine as a normal American boy – or embrace the Genovian throne? 

He sighed, watching Kurt and Carole dance around the kitchen, fussing at each other to go sit down. Kurt hummed, singing every few words, while Carole made up her own lyrics. Kurt loaded the dishwasher; Carole put the few leftovers in the fridge. 

Finn and Burt were watching an old football game on one of the channels Blaine ignored at home. Kurt had rolled his eyes, but if Blaine weren’t still focusing on Kurt to keep calm, he might have joined them.

“How’s school?” Carole asked quietly. Blaine glanced up in time to see her worrying look fade into a smile. 

Kurt answered, “So far so good. Lauren’s little bully-be-gone club seems to be working.” 

Blaine nodded. “The classes are easier than Dalton, and being able to sing to music instead of a capella makes up for a lot.”

That was… somewhat true. He’d have been top dog at Dalton this year. More than likely, he would’ve been on the Warbler Council with Thad. Classes with teachers he already knew and trusted and _liked_. Teachers adored him at Dalton because they remembered his first few months and the broken boy he’d been, and they’d always enjoyed seeing his smile. 

Now that he thought about it, the three students who’d beaten him and Marty vanished. They took plea bargains instead of a trial, went to a facility somewhere, and Blaine didn’t _want_ to know more, so he never had.

But now, watching Kurt, Blaine wondered. Queen Clarisse kept mentioning Joseph, the best of all her men. The leather jacket beside the door smiled gently at Kurt and Blaine’s joined hands. 

Blaine had decided not to care about those boys. They broke his collarbone and bruised his ribs, and sent Marty across the country to live with his grandparents. They shattered his faith in people until Wes and David poured time and effort and compassion into healing the smallest Warbler. It took a year, and Blaine still flinched sometimes. He’d still looked warily around Kurt’s prom, and he almost hadn’t stepped in to ask for that dance.

Those three kids, his own classmates – Rick, Devon, Bobby – pounded him into the ground because he _held hands_ with a boy. 

So Blaine stood, walked over to Kurt, whispered, “I love you,” and leaned in to kiss his boyfriend. 

Rick and Devon had been seniors, the big men on campus. They’d have been tried as adults. Bobby was a junior and his fate up in the air. 

“Come upstairs with me?” Kurt asked breathlessly. 

They all took plea bargains and Blaine never heard anything else. He didn’t _want_ to hear anything else. He focused on healing. Even that, he almost failed. He decided to learn to fight back, even if now it was mostly just to let off steam after a hard day. He really should show Kurt one of these days – Kurt should be able to protect himself, too. 

“I’d love to go upstairs with you,” Blaine said. “But I should head home.”

“If you must,” Kurt sighed. “I’ll walk you out.”

Burt and Finn both gave them pointed looks as they walked through the den. If Blaine wasn’t so tired, he’d be embarrassed. 

“Sorry you’ll get in trouble,” Blaine said as they hugged goodnight.

Kurt pushed him back against his car. “Don’t worry, Blaine,” he whispered, gently kissing the skin behind Blaine’s ear. “ _Stop_ worrying, you silly, lovely boy.” 

Blaine clutched Kurt’s shirt, fingers convulsing on the fabric. Suddenly, more than anything, Blaine wanted to let it all go. Collapse against Kurt and sob because of… everything. Queen Clarisse and Genovia. Philippe Renaldo and Robert Anderson. McKinley and the glee club that liked him till he became one of them. The blind, ignorant hatred that chased him out of one school and still buffeted him at another. Mama. Oh, _Mama_. 

“Blaine, Blaine, Blaine,” Kurt murmured, arms tightening around him. “Do you need to come upstairs? I’m not letting you drive like this.”

Blaine just leaned against him, so tired of being weak. He needed tighter control on his emotions. So he took a deep breath, eyes closed, and counted to ten. 

When he raised his head and stepped back, Kurt _looked_ at him, but let him go. 

“Thank you,” he said, catching Kurt’s hand and raising it to his lips for a kiss. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Drive safe,” Kurt said. “I’ll text you later.” 

.

Blaine got home, yelled “Goodnight!” to his dad, took a blistering shower, and crawled into bed. He held his phone in one hand and cuddled his pillow with the other, waiting. 

Kurt texted at five after midnight: _I love you. Sweet dreams_.

Blaine sent back, _I couldn’t do this without you_. 

He didn’t cry. Had to bite his lip and bury his face in the pillow, but he didn’t cry. 

.

On Thursday morning, Blaine woke not so panicked. He texted Kurt _Good morning_ and smiled when Kurt replied _hi, sweetie! :)_. They’d come a long way since _Courage_. Almost a year. He’d have to do something spectacular for the anniversary of their first meeting. He made a quick note in his phone and marked his calendar. He couldn’t get caught up in all the prince nonsense and forget Kurt.

Dad made banal conversation about football. Blaine’s comments were just as pointless, but Dad was trying. They’d never been that close; Mom had been so physically demonstrative, so warm, that Dad and Blaine hadn’t needed to connect. Their failed bonding experience over the car showed it still needed some work. 

So Blaine poured himself a glass of orange juice and asked, “If I – when I take the throne, what will you do?”

Dad sloshed his coffee around in the mug. “I’ll attend the coronation, of course.” He tried giving Blaine a smile. “I always knew you were bigger than this little state, Blaine. You’ve always talked about New York, LA, San Francisco. So I always knew you’d leave one day. And I’ll cheer for you, and love you, and watch with pride as you change the world.” He reached across the table to pat Blaine’s hand. “You are my son, even if you’re a prince. Even when you’re a king.”

Blaine blinked back tears. “Promise?” 

Dad smiled, stronger and lasting. “I don’t say it anywhere near as often as I should, but no one could ever be prouder or love you more, Blaine.”

.

When they met at the parking lot, Blaine pulled Kurt into a deep kiss. Kurt let it go on longer than Blaine had thought he would, before he gently pushed Blaine away. 

“You feel better?” he asked, shooting a quick look around, but no one seemed to notice. Well, except Puck; Blaine grinned at his thumbs up and leer. Kurt rolled his eyes.

“I do,” Blaine said, grabbing his hand. “And Dad and I have tentative plans to go to the dog park this weekend.”

Kurt stared at him for a moment, then said, “Blaine, you don’t have a dog.”

“I know,” Blaine laughed. “But there are usually so many dogs there, no one’ll notice.” He shrugged. “We couldn’t think of anything else to do together.” 

Kurt squeezed his hand. “I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time.”

Blaine nodded, tugging Kurt into the building. “We should hide, not go to class,” Blaine suggested, grinning hopefully and half-seriously at Kurt. “Let’s run away together.”

Kurt smiled, nodding to Karofsky as they passed. “And never look back?” he asked, opening his locker.

“And never look back,” Blaine said, leaning in for a quick kiss to Kurt’s cheek.

.

Classes that day dragged. Lunch sat in his stomach like a stone. Mr. Schuester gave Blaine and Kurt a disappointed look during glee, their last period of the day, but he didn’t ask them to stay behind.

So Blaine kissed Kurt in the parking lot, whispered, “Wish me luck,” and drove to the Hilton.

The concierge led him to a different room, with the same suits at the door, where his grandmother stood waiting. “Hello, Blaine,” Queen Clarisse said. “Today, I will see where you stand in certain areas.”

.

Queen Clarisse gave Blaine half a dozen tests that afternoon: geography, history (world in general, Genovian in particular), literature, etiquette, philosophy, and French. 

Geography and French were, as always, his weak points. But on the whole, Queen Clarisse seemed pleased, and she let him leave after he filled out the last question. 

“On Saturday morning, return, please, Blaine. Just after breakfast,” Queen Clarisse said. “Bring Kurt. We shall make a lesson plan for everything you must learn.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Blaine said, lowering his head.

She paused, then reached out to touch his shoulder. “Will you please call me _Grandmother_? I would like that very much.”

Blaine glanced up at her. “Of course, Grandmother.” 

.

Blaine called Kurt from the road. Kurt said, “Focus on driving, sweetie. Call me once you’re home.”

“Okay.” Blaine sighed and tossed his phone onto the passenger seat. 

He was calm. He was _calm_. 

He wanted to talk to Grandma and Grandmom, to be assured that even if he failed every test ever, he’d be loved. Even if he never ruled – even if he was overthrown and _decapitated_ , he’d _still_ be loved. Even if he caused a war. 

Grandmother. Queen Clarisse. 

Oh, God. He was the grandson of a queen, in line for the throne. No matter how many times he told himself that, it always sounded ridiculous. Like a lie. The most absurd lie in the world: Blaine Anderson, Crown Prince of Genovia. How pretentious. 

Someone honked; Blaine slammed on his brakes and just missed hitting an SUV. 

Okay, time to focus on driving. 

.

In his driveway, he called Kurt again. 

“I’m not a prince,” he said desperately, on the verge of a panic attack. “I _can’t_ be, Kurt. I’m a fraud. They’re all wrong.” 

“Oh, hell,” Kurt muttered. “Blaine, listen to me. Where are you?”

“Home,” he gasped, leaning over to rest on the steering wheel. “Kurt, my life is a _lie_. How can I fit on a throne?” 

The tears finally came. He couldn’t stop them. He held his hands to his face and sobbed. 

He didn’t know how long it was until Kurt was there, pulling him out of the car and sinking down, holding Blaine in his arms. He collapsed against Kurt, still sobbing, and focused on Kurt’s chest, rising and falling beneath his head. It seemed like a long time before Blaine calmed, and Kurt detached himself, standing and pulling Blaine up with him. Blaine followed Kurt to the door, and Kurt used his own key to let them in.

“Up the stairs, love,” Kurt murmured, steering him. Blaine stumbled; Kurt caught him, then put his arm around Blaine’s shoulders. “Careful, Blaine,” he said. “Almost there.”

Blaine let Kurt lay him down and snuggled in as close as he could when Kurt lay down behind him. “It’s alright,” Kurt said. “Blaine, it’ll be alright.” 

Blaine spent the next few hours in Kurt’s arms, trying to stop what seemed to be a never-ending stream of tears. Kurt didn’t say, sing, or hum anything: he just held Blaine.

Dad came home at some point. He poked his head into Blaine’s room, but kept silent and went back downstairs. 

Finally, Blaine said, “Grandmother wants to see us both on Saturday morning. Lesson plans.” 

“Alright.” Kurt kissed the back of his neck. “We’ll go around ten. I’ll pick you up and take you to IHOP.”

“IHOP?” Blaine chuckled. “You hate IHOP, Kurt.” 

“Yeah,” Kurt said. “But you love it, and you need their chocolate chip pancakes, don’t you?”

Blaine sighed. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten. I left in a hurry, too. Dad’s probably furious.” He pulled away; Blaine rolled over in time to see Kurt stretch, arching his back. “I’ll text you when I get home,” Kurt said, leaning over to kiss him before sliding off the bed. 

Kurt paused at the door, turning back. “Blaine, will you think about telling Dad? I can, if you’d prefer. But… this is the third day something’s happened, and he’s getting antsy.” 

Blaine nodded. “Tell him, Kurt. He can call my dad about it, if he needs to. But please don’t let Finn know.” If Finn knew… pretty soon, everyone else would, too. It’d just be another reason to hate him.

Kurt smiled. “Thank you, Blaine. I love you.” 

“Love you, too,” Blaine said, pulling his blankets over his head as Kurt shut his door.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something had been weird all week.

Something had been weird all week. Kurt was acting squirrely, almost like back when things with that Karofsky kid were heating up, but not quite. And Schuester called at the shop, to make sure Kurt was feeling okay, since he missed a day of school and glee practice. (Burt was almost certain that the _practice_ hacked Schuester off, not school.) 

Then, just as Burt was about to sit down with Kurt and talk about whatever was going on, Blaine called and Kurt was off like a shot. Burt was fine with that – something was clearly wrong, if Kurt saying, “Oh, _hell_ ” was anything to go by – but he would get to the bottom of things. 

Soon as Kurt got home.

.

It was after ten by the time Kurt slunk through the door. He walked over to Burt and sank next to him on the couch. “Hi, Dad,” he said, letting the back of his head rest on the back of the couch. 

“Kurt,” Burt said. “You wanna tell me what’s goin’ on yet?” 

Kurt sighed. “It’s all such a mess,” he murmured. “I can’t even…” He sighed again, heavier this time, rolling his head to look at Burt. “Dad, I don’t have any grandparents lying in wait to tell me about a heritage I should’ve known about from the beginning, right?” 

Burt stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. “Uh, no, Kurt.”

“Good,” Kurt said, nodding decisively. “That’s how it should always be.” 

Almost a full minute passed in silence before Burt asked, “So, what’s goin’ on with Blaine?” 

“A grandmother he never knew about showed up and told him she was a queen, he was a prince, and that eventually he’d be an actual king.” 

Kurt said the whole thing deadpan and dead serious, so Burt excused himself for blinking stupidly at the kid. “Run that by me again,” he said. 

Instead of speaking, Kurt glanced over his shoulder at the stairs. “Is Finn…?” 

“Listening to Rachel rant about something,” Burt said. 

“Okay.” Kurt nodded, taking a deep breath, and then he said, “Mr. Anderson is not Blaine’s biological father, but Blaine didn’t know that. And his bio-grandma showed up earlier this week.” He paused, tilting his head, keeping his gaze steady on Burt. “Blaine’s been freaking out silently since his grandmother told him he was Crown Prince of Genovia and that she’ll be announcing to the people he’s the heir, and tonight he finally broke, so.” Kurt shrugged. “He needed me and I went.” 

“Okay,” Burt said, “let me see if I’ve got this right.” Kurt nodded; Burt continued, “Blaine’s grandmother – who he never knew _about_ , much less knew – showed up and told him he’s a… prince?” Kurt nodded again. Burt blinked, then took off his hat and rubbed at his head. “Damn, kid. How’s he doin’?” 

Kurt shrugged again, letting himself fall over onto Burt’s shoulder. “He’ll be better tomorrow, I think. It all sort of exploded this afternoon. But, _God_ , Dad. I can’t… he’s a _prince_. How awesome is that?” 

“Pretty awesome,” Burt muttered, “but I’m guessin’ Blaine doesn’t really see it that way?”

“No,” Kurt said. “He’s angry, and confused, and hurt. So hurt. He thinks his dad’s been lying his whole life, and now he’s got a new grandma talking about thrones and _his_ people and having to learn French in a month. And he _hates_ French.” 

“So what’s he gonna do?” Burt asked. 

“He’s going to become a king,” Kurt said. He paused and smiled up at Burt. “And I’ll be right there with him.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Friday, two weeks after Grandmother hopped the pond to ruin Blaine’s life, he went back to Dalton to see the Warblers.

On Friday, two weeks after Grandmother hopped the pond to ruin Blaine’s life, he went back to Dalton to see the Warblers. He was tired of New Directions’ thinly veiled contempt, and Kurt was clearly about to snap and tell them all how _he_ felt about their treatment of his boyfriend, so Blaine decided to take the easy way out and visit the guys who always seemed to like him. 

He owed his sanity – and maybe his life – to Wes and David. They’d both graduated and gone to opposite coasts, Wes to Stanford and David to Yale. They emailed regularly, but he didn’t expect to see them until the Warbler reunion. But the rest of the Warblers were waiting at Dalton, and he was _exhausted_ – glee practice and McKinley and Grandmother’s lessons and Kurt’s lessons… and Finn, in particular, kept pushing at him: snide comments, holier-than-thou attitude, arguing with every suggestion Blaine made. The rest of them were lesser versions of the same, and over the weeks since school started, Kurt was growing steadily colder to the group he used to call his dysfunctional almost-family. It hurt Blaine to watch, but a part of him was just _so glad_ Kurt chose him.

So he skipped glee practice, his last period of the day, and headed for Dalton.

.

It was like coming home. Walking through the doors and down the halls felt wonderful. He’d always been safe at Dalton. Always liked. He smiled, trailed his fingers on the walls, and felt a thousand pounds lifting off his shoulders.

The Warblers should be practicing in their room, so Blaine took the long way around, just to give himself extra time at his second-favorite place in the world. (The first was Kurt’s room. Even his own bedroom didn’t feel as much like home as Kurt’s.)

From down the hall, he could hear them singing Billy Joel’s ‘Uptown Girl.’ He tilted his head, focusing on the lead voice – it was Nick, sounding strong and sure and happy. Blaine grinned, finally at the Warblers’ room, and leaned against the doorway to watch.

There were a few new Warblers, but he knew all the rest of them, and he clapped as the song finished. 

“Blaine!” Jeff hollered, hurrying over, leading the charge. Only the three new kids didn’t greet him; one seemed unbearably young and shy, one was laughing and cheering, and the third was taller than Blaine, and probably Kurt if not Finn, and his eyes roved up and down Blaine’s body.

“So you’re Blaine,” he said, finally sauntering over with a smirk. “The legend doesn’t do you justice.”

Blaine smiled. “Good to be back,” he said. “Nick, that was awesome!”

“Thanks!” Nick replied. “How’s your new school?”

So Blaine lost himself in catching up. He’d seen most of them at some point over the summer, but drama always happened. Thad and Jeff called Wes and David, Trent called Jon, and Warren called Brock so that they had a mini-reunion right there.

It was the happiest Blaine had been since Grandmother dropped her bomb. After two hours passed and Blaine had to go, he still didn’t want to leave yet.

“Feel free to drop in anytime,” Thad told him; Corey and Zach, the other two-thirds of the council, nodded.

“If you’d like to transfer back,” Jeff added, “feel free to do that, too. And bring Kurt!”

Blaine laughed. “I’ll talk to him about it,” he said. At the door, he waved, not ready to go – but Kurt was waiting to hear from him. And then, after Kurt’s family dinner, they were going out for a movie and ice-cream. 

So he said goodbye one final time and headed out. 

“I’ll walk you to your car,” Sebastian, the tall new kid, offered, falling into step with him. “I’d love to pick your brain, Warbler to Warbler.”

“Alright,” Blaine said. “What would you like to know?”

Sebastian smiled at him. “How did you get all the solos? So far, I haven’t sung lead on anything.”

Blaine chuckled. “You’ve been with the Warblers for, what, a month and a half? I was with them for over a year before I had my first solo.” He shrugged. “If you’re a senior, you’ll get something before the year is out. Are you?”

“A senior? No. I’m a junior. I spent a year abroad,” Sebastian explained, “and not all the credits transferred with me or I would be, though.”

“Well, see?” Blaine clapped him on the shoulder before holding the door for him. “Next year, you’ll start getting solos, unless your voice is exactly what they need for a competition.” 

As Blaine unlocked his car, he said, “Thank you for the escort. It was nice to meet you, Sebastian.”

“You, too, Blaine,” Sebastian practically purred, giving Blaine a once-over again. 

Blaine almost said something about being in a very happy, _monogamous_ relationship, but he figured the Warblers would take care of that for him. 

At the stop sign to exit Dalton’s parking lot, he texted Kurt, _On the way home. Looking forward to tonight!_

 _You just want to see Tom Hardy all sweaty like a beast_ , Kurt sent back. Blaine laughed and replied with only, _;)_.

.

“You know,” Blaine said as he stole some of Kurt’s cheesecake swirl, “I’ve been boxing for two years.”

“Ooh, do tell,” Kurt said, resting his chin on his hands and fluttering his eyelashes at Blaine.

Blaine chuckled, offering Kurt some of his cookies and cream. Kurt licked his spoon, eyes meeting Blaine’s the entire time. Blaine blushed, his whole body feeling warm, and he looked down at the table. 

“I… after the dance,” Blaine said, stirring his spoon around aimlessly in the bowl. Kurt smiled at him gently when he glanced up. “I was a wreck,” Blaine confessed. “I was angry, hurt, and confused. Mostly angry. So after I healed enough, Dad signed me up for boxing.” He shrugged. “I’ll never be the best, but if anyone tries something, I’ll at least be able to take him down with me.”

Kurt placed his hand on the table, palm up. Blaine smiled, reaching for him. “If you ask your grandmother,” he suggested, “I’m sure she’d have her minions give you more training.”

Blaine nodded, considering it. Grandmother kept mentioning Joseph and how he watched over Blaine. _The best of all her men_ , she called him. Well, the best _and_ Head of Security – he’d probably know a few dirty tricks he could teach Blaine.

“I’ll ask her tomorrow,” he promised, and turned the discussion to if Brendan or Tommy was better.

.

It wasn’t until Blaine was driving Kurt home that he asked, “How was glee?”

Kurt shrugged delicately, fiddling with the radio. “You really should set it up so your phone can play music through your car.” 

At the next redlight, Blaine turned and placed his hand under Kurt’s chin, gently turning Kurt’s head to face him. “Kurt. Please.”

The light changed, but no one was behind him so he stayed right where he was, looking directly into Kurt’s eyes.

After a long moment, Kurt sighed. “Schue gave me his disappointed face again. Finn started in on you for skipping, and I was just… I’m so _tired_ , Blaine. Tired of my _friends_ treating you like the enemy, like trash.” 

Someone coming up behind them honked, so Blaine hurriedly drove through the intersection, pulling into the first well-lit parking lot he saw. He put the car into park and turned in his seat to face Kurt full-on.

“What happened?” he asked.

Kurt stared down at his hands, wringing them. “I’ve been keeping my temper for over a month,” he said. “You wanted to deal with it on your own, so I tried to ignore it. But we get enough ire and apathy from _outside_ glee, Blaine. We don’t need it from inside, too.”

“I thought the bullying was better?” Blaine interjected. “You said that Lauren’s little group -”

Kurt shook his head. “Slushies and locker slams are obvious, impossible to hide, and easy to stop, given the proper motivation. But there are so many other ways to get a point across. We know that best of all.”

Blaine sighed. Yes, he did know – judging eyes, harsh looks, ostracization. Voting a boy who never campaigned as prom queen didn’t leave marks except on his psyche. 

“Can we go to your house?” Kurt asked. “Please. I need… I don’t want to go home right now. I’ll tell you the rest, I promise, but I need to be in your arms while I do.”

“Okay,” Blaine said. 

They silently listened to music and held hands for the rest of the drive.

.

Dad didn’t say anything when they got in and immediately went upstairs. Blaine and Kurt cuddled on the bed, arms around each other, and Blaine murmured, “What happened, Kurt?”

Kurt sighed, head on Blaine’s chest. “Why did I transfer back?” he asked. “I missed them all so much, but… right now, I just can’t remember why.”

“You love them,” Blaine said. “They’re your family.”

“No,” Kurt whispered, raising his head to give Blaine a sad smile. “My _family_ is you and Dad. And maybe Carole, unless she picks sides.”

 _That_ made Blaine’s worry ratchet up about three notches. “Kurt, why would she pick sides?”

Kurt wriggled even closer and the words were muffled by Blaine’s shirt when he said, “I told them all exactly how I felt, and then I quit. That made Finn even angrier. He glared at me all through dinner. I figure he told Dad and Carole after we left.”

Blaine’s arms tightened. “You quit glee?” he repeated, horrified. “Kurt, you love glee!”

Kurt shook his head and said, “ _No_ , Blaine. I love you. It’s not bringing you joy anymore. You only smile when you’re singing alone with me.” He stretched upward for a soft kiss. “None of them have treated you well, and none of them are interested in doing better. And I can sing anywhere – I don’t need to be in glee to do it.”

“I never wanted to come between you and your friends, Kurt,” Blaine whispered, his hand gently rubbing up and down Kurt’s back.

“I know,” Kurt promised, and he lifted his head to smile at Blaine. “You would’ve never forced me to choose – so I chose you.”

Kurt rolled onto Blaine, straddling him, and leaned in for more kissing. Blaine had a dozen questions – there had to be something else besides how Finn had been treating Blaine for Kurt to quit, even if Kurt loved him – but Kurt was warm and so wonderful, and honestly, he _really_ wanted to show Kurt how much he adored him. 

.

It was after eleven by the time Blaine drove Kurt home. He parked in the driveway, turned to Kurt, and asked, “Are you sure? There have been enough dramatic storm-outs that you could still go back.”

Kurt reached over, cupping Blaine’s cheek in his palm. “You’re doing too much, Blaine. You’ve been miserable since Her Majesty arrived. It’s your choice: glee or prince lessons. I’ll follow you.”

“I really don’t want to walk back into that choir room,” Blaine finally admitted. “I keep… I’ve been having dreams about ninth grade. The people you described, the people I met last year – they’re _not_ the people I know now. And I don’t know what I did wrong.” 

“Sweetie, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Kurt said, lowering his hand to rest over Blaine’s heart. “They just…” he sighed, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. They’re immature and we have more important things to worry about.” He smiled at Blaine. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning. IHOP, then the Hilton.” He leaned in for one more kiss.

“I’ll text you when I get home,” Blaine promised, and then waited for Kurt to enter the house before driving away.

.

Saturday dawned bright and beautiful. Blaine devoured his chocolate chip pancakes while Kurt actually tried some new cherry waffle thing IHOP had. It was exactly what Blaine needed; he felt so much better. It was the best thing he’d had since their last trip to IHOP two weeks ago.

He told Kurt about the Warblers, about Nick singing lead, and the three new boys. “Sebastian, the only new kid not a freshman, asked me how to get solos. He hasn’t had a single one in the entire month and a half he’s been at Dalton.”

“A whole _month and a half_?” Kurt repeated with a dramatic gasp. “How awful for him.”

Blaine laughed. “I told him he’d probably have to wait till next year. You’re the exception, Kurt. Even I didn’t have solos till I was a junior, my second year at Dalton. He’ll be fine.”

Kurt nodded, pouting into his mug as he realized his coffee was gone.

Blaine snickered at him. “We should head out anyway,” he said, catching their server’s eye. “Grandmother wants to talk about the announcement.”

“Halfway there,” Kurt said. “You ready?”

“No.” Blaine laughed sharply, completely without humor, but he smiled quickly at their server and took the check with a kind thanks.

Kurt dropped a five on the table and they walked to the cashier holding hands.

.

The same two men as always, Mr. Suit and Mr. Leather Jacket, were at the door. Blaine still didn’t know their names, but he liked Grandmother’s assistant, Charlotte. She always had a smile for Blaine, and she’d spent the better part of an hour arguing with Kurt about the best color for the shirt of an outfit he was designing for Blaine.

“You may go in,” Leather Jacket said, the same man who spoke to them on the first day.

“Thank you,” Blaine said. Leather Jacket nodded.

Grandmother waited at the table, writing in a notebook. “Good morning, boys. Have a seat,” she invited, closing the notebook and looking at them with a smile. “We have finally finished our discussion with the American government.”

Blaine glanced at Kurt. “We were having a discussion with the government?” he asked.

“Of course.” Grandmother poured herself and Kurt some tea, and handed the notebook to Charlotte. “You are both citizens of the United States. We couldn’t just steal you. But everything is finalized and you are now both dual citizens of the United States and Genovia.” She gave Kurt a look. “Of course, should the two of you ever decide to part ways, Kurt will need to reapply, if he wishes.” She smiled. “Now, let us discuss the ball.”

“The ball?” Blaine repeated. Kurt grinned, bouncing his in his seat.

“Yes, the ball,” Grandmother said. “A dinner and a ball to announce to the world that Genovia has an heir. You will attend in full regalia.” She smiled directly at him. “Blaine, there are still some things you must learn, of course. But you learn quickly, and you are such a polite boy. The only difficulty seems to be French, but I have seen how hard you try and most of the Genovians you meet at first will speak English. You are coming along splendidly.”

“Thank you,” Blaine said, flushing.

Kurt nudged his arm. Blaine asked, “Grandmother? I’d like another lesson.”

“Oh,” she said. “And what would that be?”

Blaine took a deep breath. “I’ve been boxing for two years. I had instructors the first year, but since then I just attack a bag whenever I need to let loose. That’s been less, since Kurt. I was hoping -” He faltered, but pushed on. “I’d like self-defense lessons, Grandmother. I need them, I think. Nothing major, but something that’ll give me a _shot_.”

“Hmm.” She studied him for a long moment before saying, “Yes, I believe I know what you mean.” Her gaze shifted to Kurt. “And you, my dear?”

He shrugged. “I suppose it’d be interesting. I do a little ninjutsu for fun.” He smiled at Blaine’s raised eyebrow. Blaine shook his head, grinning – Kurt always was a surprise.

“Very well. We shall continue our discussion of the ball at our next meeting.” She glanced towards the door and called, “Joseph! A moment of your time, please.”

The door opened and Leather Jacket entered. He was about Grandmother’s age and had a medium build, but he moved like a panther. “Yes, Your Majesty?” he said.

“Blaine and Kurt would like lessons on how to protect themselves,” Grandmother said. “Would you asses them and see what you can do?”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Sharp, kind eyes turned to Blaine. “Your Highness, Mr. Hummel, this way, please.”

Blaine nodded, standing. He and Kurt followed Joseph to the empty fitness center further in on the same floor. “Show me what you can do,” he told Blaine. “Then tell me what you’d like to do.” Looking at Kurt, he added, “You’re next.”

Blaine stood there for a few seconds, unsure, and then he said, “Okay,” with a quick glance to Kurt.

Joseph watched silently, but Blaine was fighting for Kurt and forgot about Joseph entirely. Since this whole thing started, he’d cried in Kurt’s arms, but he hadn’t let his anger out. He’d forced it down, tried to ignore it – his fury at Dad, at Finn, at Grandmother, at the people who didn’t shove him into lockers but glared at him and muttered insults and pretended he didn’t exist all the same. 

By the end, he was panting and his hands hurt, but Joseph nodded approvingly and Kurt stared at him, eyes wide.

“ _Wow_ ,” Kurt murmured, licking his lips.

 _Huh_ , Blaine thought. _Interesting_.

“Now, Your Highness, tell me what you want,” Joseph said, so Blaine talked about the dance, and what being an out gay prince could mean, and how he didn’t want to be helpless if anything ever happened.

“Very well,” Joseph said. “And you, Mr. Hummel?”

Kurt blinked, shook his head quickly, and looked up at Joseph. “I know a smidge of ninjutsu,” he said. “And I can throw knives.”

Joseph raised an eyebrow. “Show me,” he said. 

Blaine watched Kurt go through a series of ninja moves, eyes wide. By the end, he’d never wanted Kurt more in his life. Joseph gave him a smirk and Blaine ducked his head, trying to get his breathing back under control.

Blaine knew that neither of them were masters, and they probably weren’t very good compared to people who did it for a living, but surely anything could be an advantage. And Joseph could teach them a few dirty tricks, just to keep them a little safer.

“Now,” Joseph said, “here’s what I suggest.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaine cut glee on Friday, but Kurt was there.

Blaine cut glee on Friday, but Kurt was there. Will didn’t know what was going on; Kurt, at least, had shown up ever since Will called his dad, but he hadn’t been able to get ahold of Blaine’s father.

For weeks now, both boys had been slipping away, and Will had no idea why. He’d tried asking Finn and the others, but Blaine had somehow offended Finn and the rest were as lost Will.

On Friday, Kurt sat in the back corner and clapped politely for each performance (‘reinterpret a style not your own’), but it was obvious Kurt’s mind was elsewhere. Probably wherever Blaine was.

“Blaine too good for us now?” Finn demanded after his song, glaring up at Kurt.

Everyone else turned to look at Kurt. Rachel said, “He _has_ been neglecting glee. If he isn’t fully committed to us, he shouldn’t be here.”

Kurt’s gaze flicked to Will, but Finn and Rachel were the captains and hadn’t said anything Will wouldn’t.

After a moment of silence, Kurt sat up straight. “Why should he be fully committed if no one here treats him well?” he asked, icily polite. “If all his ideas get shot down for no reason, and nobody ever tells him _good job_ , and - ” 

“What are you _talkin’_ about?” Mercedes interrupted. “He’s treated like everybody else.”

Kurt laughed. It was an ugly, bitter sound, and Will flinched. “I don’t know why you were all okay with him this summer, but aren’t now. Honestly, I don’t even care anymore.” He stood and shouldered his bag.

“Where are you going?” Finn said, stepping forward.

Kurt looked at him; Will’s eyes widened, because it was the same look Kurt used to give the bullies… the look Kurt _still_ gave the bullies. “I don’t know why I came back to this school,” he said, voice soft and tired. “And I wish Blaine hadn’t transferred because he was safe and happy at Dalton. Nothing’s changed here.”

“You’re not being hurt anymore!” Tina said, and Kurt laughed again.

“None of you cared until it got so bad you could no longer ignore it. Until I walked into this school _every day_ wondering if it’d _finally_ be the day I was beaten to death. But the emotional stuff? The verbal? None of you blink at that. Sometimes, even I don’t notice it anymore, and no one seems to realize what a problem that is.” He paused and took a deep breath, holding up a hand when half of them tried to speak.

“Save it,” he said tiredly. “I’m done. I should’ve never come back to this cesspool of inbreeding, but I loved you all. I missed you. And I thought it was better for awhile. Until prom.” He shook his head. “I should _never_ have let Blaine transfer here.” He met Will’s eyes, then slowly looked around the room. “This time last year,” he said, in a bitter, angry tone, “I was sure I’d die. Either someone else would kill me – or I would myself when I was too tired to try anymore. Blaine _saved my life_. But it’s clear to me that none of you give a fuck about me anymore, if you ever did, so I’m not going to waste my time. I’m done with glee and I’m done with all of you.”

He strode down the riser and out the door. Will could only stare after him. “Kurt!” most of them shouted, but no one chased after him.

Will wondered when things had gotten so bad; sure, Karofsky had said stuff he didn’t mean, but who else bothered Kurt?

Glee was a safe place for everyone else, so why wasn’t it safe for Blaine, too? Will hadn’t seen anyone messing with him. Will had no idea what his problem was.

He’d call Mr. Hummel and Mr. Anderson again. In the meantime, he had kids who put time and effort into the club, so he focused back on them.

He’d worry about Kurt and Blaine later. It was probably just the usual teen drama, anyway.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Without glee to steal his energy and time, Blaine suddenly had an excess of both.

Without glee to steal his energy and time, Blaine suddenly had an excess of both. He threw himself into learning French, and Kurt enjoyed his enthusiasm. Even Grandmother mentioned his new attitude in passing and smiled at his blush.

At school, except for Puck’s continued protection, the glee club ignored them. Kurt got sad, entreating looks, but Blaine was a complete non-entity. Honestly, it was still better than before, when they saw him but felt the need to tear him down.

Finn always glared at Blaine whenever he went to Kurt’s house. Burt seemed to be running interference, though, and Kurt told Blaine that his dad was on their side. Dad even said that Burt called him at the office one day and they had a long discussion about sons. 

When Blaine told Kurt, Kurt grinned. “Dad said something about that,” he chuckled, taking the French worksheet Blaine had just finished. “They’re doing lunch on Thursday. Dad’s gonna call Her Majesty, too. He wants to meet her.”

Blaine blinked at him. “Your dad wants to meet Grandmother?” he repeated incredulously. “ _Why_?”

Kurt shrugged. “He’s curious, I guess. And if I’m going to one day move across the ocean… well, he wants to get a feel for the place.”

Blaine imagined Burt and Grandmother having tea, and he laughed. Kurt nodded, grinning again, before focusing on the worksheet. As he checked Blaine’s answers, he started humming, and then murmuring the song. Blaine didn’t recognize the words at first – then he realized Kurt was singing in French.

He listened closely, trying to understand, and he was sure he had it wrong when he asked, “Are you singing ‘Teenage Dream’?” 

Kurt looked up. “Well done, Blaine! You only got one wrong and it was a trick question.”

Blaine smiled, laughing, and said, “Sing it again, babe.”

Kurt lowered his eyes head, gazing up at Blaine through his lashes. “I once won a championship by singing in French,” he said in a soft, breathy voice – in French.

Blaine licked his lips. “Sing for me,” he asked.

Kurt looked quickly around the kitchen. They were at Blaine’s house and Dad had a late meeting. A whole house to themselves. Kurt met Blaine’s eyes and smirked. “Let’s go upstairs,” he practically purred, reaching out to caress Blaine’s fingers. “I’ll teach you a few French words you won’t find on a worksheet.”

Blaine scrambled to his feet and followed Kurt’s saunter up the stairs. 

.

A week of peace passed in a quiet haze, and then everyone stared as Blaine and Kurt walked into school on Monday. They shared a glance and moved closer together, but beyond the staring, it was a normal day.

But after school, as they headed for the parking lot, a whole flock of reporters descended on Blaine, yelling his name. “Kurt?” he said, scrambling for Kurt’s hand.

Kurt grabbed him, pulling him close, and screamed, “Finn! Puck! Help!” Kurt dragged him back into the school, and none of the students were of any help until Karofsky shoved his way between Blaine and the reporters. 

“Figgins’ office!” he barked at Kurt. “Now!”

Kurt nodded, turning tail and leading Blaine away. Lauren and Puck kept the reporters back, but Karofsky followed. He body-checked Jacob ben Israel, who had his camera ready, and Blaine finally understood. 

“They know,” he whispered.

Kurt squeezed his hand, shoved him into Figgins’ office, and pulled out his phone. “Your Majesty,” he said, voice strong and sure, though his hand trembled around Blaine’s, “we have a situation.”

.

Blaine didn’t see Grandmother’s arrival in person, but he watched it on the news later.

A limousine drove up to the school. Joseph and half a dozen other suits escorted Grandmother to Figgins’ office. No students or reporters swarmed her like they had Blaine – probably because of the guns prominently displayed on the suits. Grandmother smiled at the cameras, though. It was the same smile Kurt gave when he was angry and about to let _everyone_ know.

“Principal Figgins,” Grandmother said calmly, at ease behind his desk, hands clasped, smiling at him. “I am _very_ underwhelmed by this learning institution of yours. To be quite honest, I would prefer that my grandson and Mr. Hummel still attended Dalton Academy.” 

“I second that,” Burt said, and Dad nodded. 

Figgins clearly had no idea what to do, and Kurt covered his laugh with a fake cough. “Your Majesty,” he said, too loudly, “we hold the safety of our students very high in priority.”

“You do?” Burt asked, tone biting and sharp. “Must be a new thing.”

Grandmother looked at him, then Figgins again. “Joseph and a man of his choosing will stay with the boys at all times. They have my permission – my _command_ – to utilize _any_ force necessary to keep my grandson and his intended safe.”

Figgins choked. Grandmother was still smiling.

“Blaine, my dear,” Grandmother said, holding up a hand to halt Figgins’ protests, “do you wish to keep attending this school? If need be, I will pay for you both to return to Dalton.”

Blaine looked at Kurt. Kurt said, “It’s up to you. I’ll follow wherever you lead.”

The door banged open and Coach Sylvester shoved Jacob ben Israel in, holding his camera in her hand. “I found _this_ skulking around,” she announced. “My sources confirm he’s the rat behind the vermin outside.”

“Not surprising,” Kurt commented icily.

Grandmother’s gaze sharpened. “A pity you’re still a student,” she told him. “That does unfortunately limit the scope of our reaction.”

“You can’t do anything!” Jacob shouted, panicked gaze going from Grandmother to Kurt’s favorite teacher to Figgins, whose hands were still spread helplessly. “Freedom of the press!” Jacob tried again, but he quailed beneath the twin glares of Queen Clarisse and Coach Sylvester.

Blaine had to admit, watching Jacob cower gave him a great deal of satisfaction.

“Yes, yes, do be quiet,” Grandmother ordered. Jacob flinched back but kept quiet. “And you are?” Grandmother asked Coach Sylvester, but Blaine knew she’d had Joseph do background checks on practically everyone in Ohio. 

Judging by her smirk, Coach Sylvester knew it, too. “I’m the finest cheerleading coach you’ll ever have the luck to meet,” she said. 

“Yes,” Grandmother replied, her smile almost looking like a smirk. “I’m certain that’s all you are.”

Coach Sylvester’s smirk sharpened. Blaine thought about the two of them teaming up together for _anything_ and shuddered.

“Please remove _that_ from my sight,” Grandmother commanded. Before Joseph could move, Coach Sylvester grabbed Jacob by the collar and tossed him out. “Thank you,” Grandmother said. “We were discussing the boys’ futures,” she continued, smiling at Coach Sylvester. “We would prefer they returned to Dalton. The campus is far more secure there, and the administration has a proven history of protecting the students.”

“Just _tell_ ‘em to go back,” Coach Sylvester suggested, glancing at Blaine dismissively. Then she smiled at Kurt before focusing back on Grandmother. “Honestly,” she said, dropping her tougher-than-tough façade for a moment, “as much as I like Porcelain, and as glad as I was to see that pallid face of his every day – I wish he’d stayed gone. For all my power, I couldn’t protect him here because even _I_ can’t be everywhere at once.”

Grandmother nodded. Kurt gaped at Coach Sylvester, completely gobsmacked. “Coach,” he said. “I didn’t -”

“Hush, Porcelain,” she interrupted. “The grown-ups are talking.”

“Blaine,” Grandmother said. “All of us would like to know your choice.”

Blaine reached for Kurt’s hand. He played with Kurt’s fingers for a moment, considering. Dalton was safe. It had the Warblers. It had guards who did their jobs, a comprehensive and _enforced_ no-bullying policy, fences, and a closed campus. The teachers adored him. The whole place felt like home. He and Kurt could hold hands in the halls and steal kisses without fear of being beaten to death.

But Dalton wasn’t the real world. It would prepare him for college, but not for Genovia or inter-country relations. He had to learn to _deal_ with problems, not run from them. 

He looked at Kurt. “Do you want to go back?”

Kurt said, “Of _course_ I do. But should I?” He shrugged. “Do I wish I hadn’t transferred back so that we’d be there right now, still incognito? Yes.” He glanced at his dad, at Blaine’s dad, at Coach Sylvester, Joseph, and Grandmother, before finally turning back to Blaine. “I know how you feel,” he murmured. “I feel the same. You’re a _prince_ , Blaine. Not everyone will always like you, because they’re stupid, and prejudiced, and completely blind. And this horrible place – it’s good practice, don’t you think?”

Blaine sighed, and because he loved this boy so much, and because he felt safe in their fathers’ and Grandmother’s and Joseph’s, and even Kurt’s crazy Coach Sylvester’s presence, he raised Kurt’s hand to his lips and kissed Kurt’s knuckles. Kurt blushed, of course. But no one said a thing, not even Figgins.

“So be it,” Grandmother said, and turned a steely gaze on Figgins. “I know your policies, Principal Figgins, and I know your practices. I know that you are blind, willfully ignorant, and spineless.” Figgins wilted and opened his mouth, but Grandmother raised an eyebrow and he subsided. “Joseph has charge of my grandson, Principal Figgins. Blaine is my heir. He will be protected, and so will Kurt be. Joseph will attend classes and lunch and walk the halls with Blaine. An agent of his choosing will do the same with Kurt. They will not be bothered. They will not be harmed.” She paused, still staring Figgins down. Blaine realized he’d been holding his breath, so he tried to exhale as quietly as possible.

“I know your history, sir,” Grandmother said. “Joseph presented to me a _complete_ report after Blaine transferred to this… school.” She raised an eyebrow. “If my late husband’s ancestors ran Genovia the way you run McKinley, they would have been overthrown long ago.” She paused, glancing at Burt and Dad. “The boys and I have spoken. Do you agree?” 

Blaine looked at his dad. “Are you sure, Blaine?” he asked. “I didn’t like you coming here to begin with, but you were so convincing… and I know you’ve been having nightmares again.”

“I’m sure, Dad,” he said. “I think I… no, I _know_ I need this.” 

Dad sighed. “Fine.” He turned to Joseph. “You’re going to stay with him,” he said, suddenly fierce. “No matter what. We clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Joseph replied, a tiny smile on his lips.

“I guess I’ll agree, too,” Burt said. “Seems like all the cool kids are.” He caught Joseph’s eye. “You better find a guy as good as you’re supposed to be for my boy. Are _we_ clear?”

Joseph respectfully inclined his head.

“Now that that’s settled,” Grandmother said, drawing all attention back to her. “Principal Figgins, let us discuss a new bullying policy, shall we.” She smiled her little old grandmother smile, but all it made Blaine think of were sharks. A whole lot of sharks and the scent of blood in the water. And Figgins flinched back like a frightened little fish.

Blaine grinned. Next to him, Kurt was beaming.

.

Joseph escorted them out. The reporters were mostly gone, and the ones remaining stayed a respectful distance away. “Marcom, Kendrick,” Joseph ordered two of the suits, “drive His Highness and the younger Mr. Hummel’s cars to their houses.”

“Sir,” they both said, nodding, and, after taking the keys, left. 

Joseph glanced at Dad and said, “Mr. Anderson, Eaton will drive you home and secure the premises.” Dad nodded, resignedly, and followed his suit away. Joseph turned to Burt. “Mr. Hummel, our car will follow you home and then you will join us on the way to the Andersons’ house. Smith will drive you.” 

Burt raised an eyebrow at the suit who stepped forward, then he looked at Grandmother, and finally Kurt. “Okay,” he said. “C’mon, Smith.”

Only Grandmother, Blaine, Kurt, and Coach Sylvester remained. “Send me whatever plan you decide on,” Coach Sylvester told Grandmother. “I can help.”

“Of course,” Grandmother replied. “Thank you, Ms. Sylvester.”

Coach Sylvester stalked off and Grandmother smiled after her. “Interesting woman,” Grandmother commented, glancing at Kurt. “Her fondness for you, my dear, is convenient.”

Kurt laughed. “That’s probably the only time anyone has ever said anything about Coach is _convenient_.”

.

A suit drove the limo. Joseph sat in the back with them and Blaine asked him, “You wouldn’t really use, like, _deadly_ force on a kid, right?”

“That would depend entirely on their demeanor,” Joseph replied calmly. “I have protected politicians, actors, and royalty. I know the difference between an annoyance and a threat, Your Highness.”

Blaine nodded, relieved.

“It is our hope that the children who have been cruel to you will leave you alone now,” Grandmother said, reaching over to pat his hand. “McKinley will be good practice for your future as a king, but it need not be _completely_ awful.”

“We were going to tell the world on Saturday anyway,” Kurt said, nudging Blaine’s side. “I mean, yeah, that would have been better. But it’s just a week’s difference, right?”

Blaine sighed. He asked Grandmother, “How many people will suddenly be my best friends?”

She chuckled softly. “Well, to be honest… everyone. It is painful, I know, but for the rest of your life, you will wonder if someone is friendly because of _you_ , Blaine the dear boy – or because of your crown. I went through it myself, when I wed Rupert.” 

Kurt put his arm around Blaine and pulled him close, to whisper in his ear, “I love you for _courage_ , and for dorky dancing, and for your innate kindness.”

“Thank you,” Blaine whispered back.

.

When Burt slid into the limo, he leveled a look at Grandmother. “Well, Clarisse,” he said, “what’s your masterplan now?”

“Dad!” Kurt hissed, horrified. “Don’t talk to a queen like that!”

But Grandmother was laughing. “Oh, it’s alright, Kurt,” she said. “We had an enlightening lunch last Friday.”

Kurt looked from one to the other. “And that’s as scary as Coach being your new bosom buddy,” he told Grandmother, and she laughed again.

“To answer your question, Mr. Hummel,” Grandmother said. “We will now reconvene at Mr. Anderson’s house. Our plan is the same; only the timetable has changed.”

“So the dinner and ball is still a go?” Blaine asked, slumping onto Kurt’s shoulder.

“Of course,” Grandmother replied. “Except, instead of it being your introduction, it will be our formal claim on your heritage.”

Blaine sighed, burying his face in Kurt’s neck. He was so tired, all of sudden. One thing after another… “Can’t I just run away?” he muttered, forgetting for a moment where he was, and who was present.

“No, Your Highness,” Joseph said firmly. 

Blaine jerked his head up, embarrassed as he met Grandmother’s eyes, then Burt’s. He blushed and wanted to hide behind Kurt.

Kurt laughed, reaching up to pat his head. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “I’m on your side, remember? So you can’t be anything but awesome.” 

“You promise?” Blaine asked.

“I swear,” Kurt said.

.

Dad and half a dozen suits were waiting at home. 

“The perimeter is secure, sir,” the one who’d gone home with Dad told Joseph, then he bowed to Grandmother, murmuring, “Majesty.”

“Thank you, Eaton,” Grandmother said. “All of you, please patrol.” The suits filed out.

Grandmother settled in Dad’s armchair, Joseph standing just behind her. Kurt and Blaine sat as close as they could together on the loveseat, while Dad and Burt took opposite ends of the couch. 

“Now, to business,” Grandmother said. “Joseph will begin shadowing Blaine tomorrow. Security will be installed this evening. Joseph?”

“Yes, Majesty.” He spoke into his earbud, “Eaton, Kendrick!” Two suits stepped back in after a moment. “Mr. Anderson,” Joseph said, looking at Dad. “These two will stay here to keep your house secure. One will also secure your office.”

Dad stared at Joseph, then the suits. “Is all this really necessary?” he asked. “I mean – I’m just in advertising. No one’s going to care about me.”

“Mr. Anderson,” Grandmother said severely, “Blaine is the heir. You are his father. Many people will be angered by Blaine’s mere existence, nevermind the fact that he’s happily with Kurt.” Dad looked away, biting his lip. Grandmother continued in a slightly gentler tone, “The Hummels will be secured as well, Mr. Anderson. While I do wish it were not necessary – it is, very much so.” She glanced at Joseph.

He nodded. “Smith, Marcom!” 

Dad’s two suits left; two more entered. “Smith will secure your house, Mr. Hummel,” Joseph said. “Marcom will go to your shop.” 

Burt nodded. “Fine. Which of ‘em’s Kurt’s bodyguard?”

“Neither,” Joseph answered. “Spencer will arrive later tonight; you will meet him tomorrow, Kurt.”

Kurt’s face was expressionless, his hands clenched together. He ducked his head, trying to hide, and Blaine reached over to touch his shoulder. “Kurt,” he whispered, “What’s wrong?”

Kurt let out a shuddering sigh, then rubbed at his face. “I can’t – bodyguards and guys with guns and how – this isn’t -” He cut himself off and lunged to his feet, hurrying out the room. 

Blaine jumped up to follow. “No, Your Highness, Mr. Hummel,” Joseph said, stopping both of them. “Allow me.” He paused in the doorway to say, “Eaton and Marcom will explain the measures needed. I’ll return shortly.”

Grandmother nodded elegantly. “You have the floor, Eaton. Please enlighten these gentlemen.”

Blaine wanted to follow Kurt, to hold him and kiss him, but he trusted Joseph. And maybe Kurt needed a break from him. Maybe the whole prince thing was too much, and Kurt was about to break up with him.

 _God_ , he hoped not. He’d only been able to get this far because Kurt was at his side.

“So this Spencer guy’s gonna be movin’ in?” Burt demanded, and Blaine shook his head, focusing back on the meeting.

“Yes, sir,” one of the suits said. Eaton or Marcom. Blaine needed to start paying attention so he could keep all the suits straight. “At night,” the suit continued, “Smith will be on duty so Spencer can sleep, but Spencer will shadow Kurt everywhere.”

“You must realize something, Burt,” Grandmother said, and she sounded _like_ a grandmother, no queen in her voice at all. “Your son is no longer simply a talented, delightful boy. He is no longer a student, or a boyfriend. So many people already hated him just because he would dare date Blaine, even if there was no chance those misguided bigots would ever meet or see him.” She took a breath, and _Queen_ Clarisse Renaldo continued, “But now, the world will be watching. Genovia is a small nation, but we have influence. Many of the elite emulate _us_. We are renowned for our culture, our crafts, our art. Our national university is one of the best. The world will look at your son because the heir of our throne loves him and will not hide him.”

Grandmother paused, looking Burt straight in the eyes. “Do you understand?” she asked softly, but there was steel in the words. “Your son just stepped into a planet-wide spotlight. People will watch him. Many will admire him for his strength. And many will hate him more than they already do because he will refuse to hide. _Do you understand_?”

“Yes,” Burt whispered. He pulled his ballcap off and rubbed at the top of his head, his eyes, his mouth and chin.

“Spencer is the best, Mr. Hummel,” Grandmother said after a moment. “If Blaine did not have Joseph, he’d have Spencer.”

Dad said, “This isn’t fair.” He stood and walked over, sinking next to Blaine and hugging him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured into Blaine’s ear. “I love you so much, son.”

Blaine wrapped his arms around Dad and said, “It’ll be alright, Dad.”

Blaine didn’t pull away from Dad until Joseph cleared his throat. Dad let him go reluctantly and Blaine looked up to see Kurt standing sheepishly in front of Joseph. “Hi,” he said, glance darting from the floor to Blaine and back. “I’m sorry for earlier. I was a little – overwhelmed.” He chuckled nervously, hands fluttering by his sides.

Blaine held out a hand. Kurt took it with a sigh of relief and Blaine pulled him down while Dad stood, heading back for the couch.

“Mr. Hummel,” Joseph asked, “where will your wife and stepson be?”

“Um, Carole probably just clocked out for the day,” Burt said. “I have no idea about Finn.”

“Today’s a Rachel day,” Kurt said, lifting his head off Blaine’s shoulder. “No football. There was probably an emergency glee meeting about the – the _outing_ , though. Probably at Rachel’s; she has the most space.”

“We need to get them,” Joseph said. 

Burt opened his mouth, protest plain on his face – and then he looked at Kurt. He looked at Kurt for a long moment, and everyone was silent.

“Fine,” Burt said. “Limo again?”

Joseph nodded. He asked Kurt, “Does Mr. Hudson usually drive himself to the young lady’s house?”

Kurt shook his head.

“Very well,” Joseph said. 

Burt looked at Kurt again. “I’ll be back, kiddo.” 

“Bye, Dad,” Kurt murmured, and then he buried his face in Blaine’s chest.

Blaine started humming ‘Somewhere Only We Know,’ but he didn’t sing.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joseph had been waiting for this from that first meeting, when he saw their joined hands and defiant expressions.

Joseph had been waiting for this from that first meeting, when he saw their joined hands and defiant expressions. Kurt Hummel was impressive on paper, and even more impressive in person. But he _was_ only seventeen, and while he’d been so strong for the prince, Joseph had seen this breakdown coming.

It was always painful when illusions shattered. It had been obvious to Joseph that the boy built up his fantasy of a knight in shining armor turned prince, their happily ever after. But the reality: armed bodyguards and invasive reporters and violent threats.

Kurt had already experienced some of that, Joseph knew. While Joseph didn’t have the full story, he – and Her Majesty – knew more than anyone else except Kurt. Kurt had held some back even from Blaine, more than likely, and had told his father only the barest bones of what he couldn’t hide. He was clearly a very private person.

And now, the world turned his way with an inquisitive eye because he was dating the never-before-known Crown Prince of Genovia.

Joseph followed the boy upstairs to Blaine’s room and knocked on the door. “Mr. Hummel?” he called softly. “I’d like a word with you, please.”

No movement from inside the room, but he heard a sigh and then, “If you must.”

Joseph opened the door. Kurt sat up and wrapped Blaine’s comforter around himself, not meeting Joseph’s eyes. “Come to yell at me for running away?” he asked, trying for belligerent, but missing it for nervous.

“Do I seem like someone who would yell?” Joseph asked.

Kurt still didn’t look at him, but he shook his head.

“Mr. Hummel,” Joseph said, “I know you love Blaine. He utterly adores you.”

Kurt tightened his grip on the blanket.

“Life is about to get very confusing and hectic for both of you. Blaine will be hounded on all sides by people who claim to be friends and only want him because of what he is.” Joseph paused; when Kurt remained silent, he continued, “Enemies will be numerous. Some will want his title; some will simply hate him for what he represents – because he _loves_ you, Kurt, and will not lie.”

Kurt winced, flicked a glance at Joseph, and looked back down. His fingers fidgeted on the blanket. 

“You must make a choice, Mr. Hummel,” Joseph said. “From the beginning, I have watched you with our prince. You have been strong, the only one he leaned on. And now that everyone knows, now when the enemies begin to swarm – will you stay with him?”

Kurt’s fingers froze and he slowly raised his head. “The day after we met,” he said softly, “I called Blaine in a panic. He dropped everything and talked about – god, I don’t even remember. Katy Perry, probably.” He laughed a bit brokenly. “He talked until I stopped crying, and the very next day, he drove to my school and helped me confront a bully.” Kurt laughed again, shaking his head. “It didn’t really help the situation at _all_ , of course. But it really helped _me_.” He met Joseph’s eyes. “I wasn’t alone. Someone _knew_ , and didn’t blame me.”

Joseph waited, sure now what Kurt would choose. He’d never really doubted. Nor had Her Majesty. The parents in both of them had wanted to string Figgins up by his heels, but instead a few discreet calls had been made.

Kurt threw off the comforter and climbed off the bed. “ _No one_ ,” he said, “is going to hurt _or_ use Blaine.” He stood tall, head held high. “And I’ll be by his side every step of the way, to make sure.”

“Lead the way, then, Mr. Hummel,” Joseph said. 

Kurt nodded decisively and strode from the room. Joseph followed him, smiling.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaine went to bed without checking the news. He wished Kurt could’ve spent the night, but Burt dragged him away once Carole and Finn calmed enough to listen to Grandmother.

Blaine went to bed without checking the news. He wished Kurt could’ve spent the night, but Burt dragged him away once Carole and Finn calmed enough to listen to Grandmother. 

Carole had hugged Blaine after she realized _he_ was the prince everyone’d been talking about. Finn had stared at Grandmother and Joseph, mouth moving like he wanted to say something, but he looked at Kurt and kept it to himself.

So Kurt, Burt, Carole, and Finn went home with their suits, and Blaine was left with Dad, Grandmother, Joseph, and the remaining army of suits. 

Grandmother stayed for dinner, then she and all but two suits and Joseph left as well. 

Blaine didn’t really sleep that night. He wasn’t at all looking forward to the next day – either everyone would hate him even more (but be unable to act on it because of Joseph) or he’d suddenly be the most popular boy in school. He honestly wasn’t sure which would be worse.

His phone chimed with a new text. It had exploded earlier, with calls, texts, and emails from New Directions and the Warblers, but he hadn’t replied to any. He picked the phone up: Wes. Barely a second later, David sent something, too.

Blaine owed them his life; he read the texts. _Warbler Blaine, are you well?_ (Wes) and _Blaine text me back! The news has gone crazy dude_ (David). 

Blaine sighed and replied to both with, _Im fine. Everythings crazy guys. Im a prince. Weird huh?_ He figured they’d been waiting till they both had a moment, since they were a continent apart. 

_I got panicked texts from all of last year’s Warblers,_ Wes sent. _You didn’t reply to any of them, so they contacted me_. 

Blaine chuckled. _I’m a bit overwhelmed you know. I’ll call tom or visit Dalton._

 _So all those news reportsare REAL?_ David asked. Blaine could just see his expression of disbelief changing to excitement. _Dude!_

 _Dude yeah_ , Blaine replied. He sighed, then sent to both of them, _Im tired. Well talk tom. Thank you._

 _Night_ , David said. _Goodnight, Blaine_ , Wes sent. _Don’t worry too much_.

Blaine smiled, then texted Grandma, _Will you swing by soon? I need a hug_. He left Grandmom a voicemail, rambling for five minutes about Grandmother, decapitation, and Kurt. 

He texted Kurt, _I love you, babe._ He held his phone until Kurt replied, _I love you, too, sweetie. Now go to sleep. Big day tom. I’ll be over in the morning to dress you_.

Still smiling, Blaine set his phone on the table next to his bed. Tomorrow didn’t seem so scary anymore.

.

Blaine didn’t wake up till he felt the bed dip and heard Kurt sing, “Gotta get up, gotta get goin’, gonna see a friend of mine.” He kept his eyes closed, though, and reached up blindly, pulling Kurt down on top of him.

Kurt laughed and slid off him, tugging at Blaine to turn him over. “Time to get up, love,” he whispered. “We need to show all those doubters and haters that they can’t touch us.”

Blaine opened his eyes and smiled up at Kurt, who looked amazing, like always. Blaine liked fashion well enough, but he had no idea how Kurt could constantly put together such awesome outfits. “I’m not going to look as good as you, Kurt,” he said.

Kurt raised an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge, Blaine Warbler? Because there is a world out there waiting to stare at you, and we _will_ give them something to stare at.” 

Sighing, Blaine allowed Kurt to pull him out of bed. 

“Joseph and your dad are downstairs talking to, um, Smith? And my bodyguard is on his way, apparently,” Kurt told him, pushing him towards the door. Blaine headed for the bathroom, where he stared at himself in the mirror for a moment, then went about his usual routine. By the time he made it back to his bedroom, Kurt had an entire outfit chosen. He helped Blaine into it (unnecessary, of course, but he kept caressing Blaine’s skin, and it felt so wonderful) and when Blaine was fully dressed, Kurt kissed him, long and deep.

“You ready?” Kurt asked softly as he leaned back. His hands rested on Blaine’s waist, and one moved to Blaine’s cheek. 

“Yeah.” Blaine nodded and caught Kurt’s hand with his own. He took a deep breath and, with Kurt right behind him, strode from his room. 

.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” Joseph said as they walked into the kitchen. Dad smiled and handed them each a plate of eggs and toast.

“Thank you, sir,” Kurt said, taking his to the table. 

“Spencer will be here shortly,” Joseph told Kurt. “Marcom has returned to your father.” 

“Um, thanks,” Kurt said with an awkward smile, putting some salt and pepper on his eggs. Blaine sat next to him and spread strawberry jelly on his toast. 

Dad and Joseph discussed the day’s headlines while Kurt and Blaine ate in silence. Two suits – Kendrick? Eaton? Blaine really needed to learn all their names – lurked around, and just as Blaine drained his milk, Joseph said, “Spencer is here.”

Kurt looked up as a new suit walked into the kitchen, looking just like all the rest. “Spencer, meet Kurt Hummel and His Highness, Blaine Anderson,” Joseph said. “Kurt, this is Eliot Spencer. He’ll be your bodyguard for as long as you’re the Prince Consort.” 

Kurt blushed as Blaine leaned over to whisper, “A lifetime, then.” He really liked Kurt’s blush.

“Sir,” Spencer said to Joseph, before looking at Kurt and Blaine. “Your Highness, Mr. Hummel.”

“Hello, Mr. Spencer,” Kurt said. “You’ll probably be bored.”

“Eliot or Spencer,” Spencer said. He studied Kurt for a moment before smiling. “And I very much doubt I’ll be bored.”

.

The same suit from yesterday drove the limo. Joseph and Spencer sat with them in the back; Joseph told Spencer last minute details while Blaine complained to Kurt about homework he never even started.

“You’ll get a pass, Your Highness, if any teacher demands an assignment from yesterday,” Joseph said. 

“It’s not a big deal,” Blaine replied. “Don’t worry about it.”

Spencer smiled, ducking his head, and Kurt took Blaine’s hand, murmuring, “Let Joseph frighten teachers if he wants.”

.

At school, the driver opened the door. Joseph got out first, then Spencer, then Kurt, and finally Blaine. 

Of course a crowd had gathered. Blaine tried to ignore all the gawkers, focusing on Kurt. 

As the limo left, Joseph told Spencer, “Principal Figgins’ office first. You’ve memorized the schedule?” 

“On the plane,” Spencer confirmed. 

Joseph nodded. “Good.” He leveled a steely gaze on the kids in the way and they parted. Joseph and Spencer guided Kurt and Blaine through. Blaine found it almost humiliating, but Kurt was lit up with excitement. It was a taste of the life he’d been imagining for years, and whatever problem he’d had yesterday, he’d overcome it.

Mr. Figgins’ secretary told them to just go in and Joseph thanked her. “Principal Figgins,” he said, “Spencer will stay with Kurt. If you’d like to make an announcement of some sort, feel free.”

Spencer smiled. “Thank you for not makin’ this a hassle, sir,” he said, and Principal Figgins sat up tall in his chair. Kurt smothered his chuckle in a cough, and Blaine pressed his lips firmly together. “I’ll do my best to keep any situation under control,” Spencer continued.

“Of course,” Mr. Figgins said. “Our kids are a handful, but they’re good kids.” 

Kurt’s cough covered a scoff this time. Blaine nudged him and Kurt rolled his eyes.

“We’ll not take up any more of your time, Principal Figgins,” Joseph said. “Good day.”

“Yes, have a good day,” Mr. Figgins replied. 

“Thank you, sir,” Spencer said, stepping in front of Kurt as they left the office.

Joseph told Spencer, “We’ll meet at the cafeteria door for lunch. Do your best to keep your temper.” 

Spencer nodded. Blaine smiled at Kurt and reached for his hand, squeezing it before following Joseph away.

.

It was a long day. Most of Blaine’s teachers ignored Joseph, but Mrs. Weinstein, his history teacher, freaked out and tried to throw him from her room. Joseph simply met her eyes and said, “Where His Highness goes, I go. Her Majesty and Principal Figgins agreed.” 

Mrs. Weinstein didn’t listen. After her rant reached the five minute mark, Joseph gently escorted Blaine from the room. 

“Where would you like to go, Your Highness?” Joseph asked once they were in the hall. 

Blaine looked at him in shock. “You want me to ditch class?” 

Joseph said solemnly, “I will speak to Principal Figgins about Mrs. Weinstein. You will not return to her class until she apologizes.” 

“Why does she have to apologize?” Blaine asked, heading for the auditorium. “Did her rant bother you that much?” 

Joseph laughed, shaking his head. “She will not apologize to me, Your Highness; she will apologize to _you_.”

“Why?” he asked, letting Joseph open the auditorium door and check for lurkers or something – whatever bodyguards did.

“She disrespected you as a person and the crown you represent,” Joseph said. “And she acted unbecoming for a teacher.”

Blaine chuckled, picking a seat halfway down the aisle. “She’s been – well, I don’t want to say hysterical, but she had a similar meltdown earlier this year. Kurt wore this awesome outfit and –” He paused, remembering that outfit. It had been the second week of school, and combined one of Kurt’s bondage jackets with a dark blue kilt and his ass-kicking boots.

Blaine had been _very_ glad Dad worked late that day.

“Anyway,” he said. “I heard about it later. She yelled about decency and kicked him out. Kurt couldn’t stop laughing.”

Joseph smiled, sitting down next to Blaine. “We have forty minutes until lunch. I’m sure you have questions you hesitated to ask your grandmother.”

Blaine leaned back, putting his feet on the seat in front of him. “Will people really try to kill me?” He didn’t want to believe it, but his collarbone still ached when it rained sometimes. And if people he _knew_ could do that when he was just another theater geek in Ohio… what would people he didn’t know do when he was prince?

“There are people in Genovia who are angry Her Majesty found an heir of the Renaldo bloodline,” Joseph said gently. “There are people who would hurt you because of your future throne.” Joseph paused, reaching out to lift Blaine’s chin with a soft touch. “And, Your Highness, there are people who would not care about you if you were dating a nice girl. But you are _not_ dating a nice girl, and they will hate you for that alone.”

Blaine sighed, slumping back down. “So I’ll have a bodyguard forever?”

“Yes, Your Highness. You would anyway, but we’ll be extra-diligent with you and Mr. Hummel.” Joseph glanced around the empty auditorium. “I know that a place like this is your dream, Blaine. And I am sorry that your duty has changed your life. But you will be a wonderful king for Genovia, of that I’m sure.”

Blaine couldn’t think of a thing to say, so they sat in silence for a few minutes. 

Finally, Blaine asked, “Do you think Kurt will stay? He promised, but he has his whole life waiting. He can still go to New York and rule Broadway, or make his own clothing line, or something. I don’t want to _ruin_ his life.” He wiped at his eyes and looked at the floor, sure that Joseph would tell him to buck it up and be man.

Just like princes didn’t serenade boys at the mall, kings-to-be didn’t cry because they thought their soulmates would find something better.

“I believe that Kurt Hummel will stay by your side until you tell him to leave,” Joseph said. “He made that abundantly clear to me yesterday.”

Blaine lifted his head. “Really?”

Joseph smiled. “Really.”

.

 

For the rest of the time until lunch, Blaine replied to texts and emails from the Warblers. He said basically the same thing to everyone: _Yes, it’s real. Thank you for the support. I’ll visit soon_. 

Joseph made phone-calls and relayed information via earbud to Spencer. Blaine tried not to listen, thinking it’d be rude, but when Joseph laughed and said, “I’m not surprised,” Blaine looked over. Joseph grinned at him, murmuring, “Your boyfriend has awed Spencer.” 

Blaine grinned in response, looking back at his phone. All the Warblers had been answered, but there were still a dozen messages from New Directions. Blaine glanced over them and replied to all but Finn’s, which said, _dude, wut?_ It had been sent before Joseph went to get him from Rachel’s. (Rachel’s message had rambled about being the perfect queen to his king. Blaine thanked her but said he’d much prefer her as a star than a spouse.)

When the bell rang, Blaine sighed. “Come, Your Highness,” Joseph said, rising. “Spencer and Mr. Hummel are waiting.” 

Blaine stood, shouldering his bag, and trailed behind Joseph.

.

The cafeteria fell silent as Blaine and Kurt stepped in after Joseph and Spencer. Blaine held his head high and refused to let his nervousness show. 

Brittany was the first to move; she bounced over, ignoring Joseph and Spencer (somehow – Blaine had _no_ idea how) to grab both Kurt and Blaine’s hands. “C’mon, Lord Tubbington gave me questions for you!”

She dragged them to the table with most of New Directions; Joseph shadowed them silently while Spencer went through the food line with two trays. Brittany pulled Blaine down next to her, across from Tina and Mike. Kurt quickly took his other side.

Brittany babbled at Blaine about tiaras and unicorns; he replied as best he could, holding Kurt’s hand under the table. Joseph stood behind them and Spencer slid the trays in front of them. Blaine waited for a polite moment to turn and ask if they were eating, but Kurt did it for him, so he ate one of the chicken nuggets after Joseph and Spencer declined. 

Artie finally broke in, asking, “So, you have bodyguards now?”

Blaine nodded. Artie stared up at Spencer and Joseph, and breathed, “ _So_ jealous. I’ll have an army of my own some day.”

Blaine decided not to mention that he already had an army of his own – though, it should be obvious, since he _was_ a prince.

“So, Prince of the Fairies, what’s her name?” Santana asked with a wicked smirk. When Blaine frowned at her, she elaborated, “The hot number waiting to be your queen back home? Surely you have a _betrothed_?”

“I’m not betrothed,” he said, honestly confused for a moment, before deciding it was just Santana trying to stir up trouble. Like always. “But Grandmother is planning me and Kurt’s wedding.” Bit of a falsehood, but he’d rather not listen to Santana insult them every way possible. And he _would_ marry Kurt some day.

Kurt ducked his head, blushing, as Santana made a rude noise and hand gesture.

“Is this why you stopped participating in New Directions?” Rachel asked, cutting across the entire table.

Blaine looked at her. Finn sat beside her, staring at his tray. Everyone else at the table quieted. “Yes,” he said. “I didn’t have enough energy to deal with Grandmother, school, _and_ being shredded by people who should’ve been my friends. Something had to give.”

Rachel just stared at him. “You should’ve made time for both,” she said after a minute. “And Kurt!” She turned her glare on him. “ _You_ have no excuse for abandoning us. You, after all, are not the long-lost heir in need of training to take over a nation.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “I had no choice, Rachel,” he said. “I chose what was best for me _and_ Blaine. Walking out on glee was like excising a _cancer_.”

Rachel’s eyes widened, Finn sat up straight, and Mercedes, Tina, and Artie gasped. The rest looked confused. Not all of them knew how Kurt’s mom died, then.

Blaine touched Kurt’s hand. Kurt glanced at him in askance, so Blaine tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. Kurt nodded.

“We won’t be coming back to glee,” Blaine said, standing and picking up his tray. He’d somehow managed to eat half of the chicken nuggets, and wasn’t hungry for more. “We’d like to be friends, if any of you can manage that.” He smiled as Kurt stood next to him, having managed to eat even less. “Thank you, Brittany,” he told her before following Joseph out. Spencer brought up the rear.

.

The rest of the day went better. But by the end of the next day (and having been transferred to a new history class), Blaine was tired of being followed around by Joseph. Or following Joseph around. Both. He still liked Joseph; he thought Joseph was one of the awesomest guys in the world. But Blaine needed his space, and so did Kurt.

One of the Warblers, Sebastian, had invited Blaine by text to Scandals, a gay bar – the only gay bar anywhere close to Lima, apparently. So Blaine asked Kurt to go with him, and they both snuck past Joseph and Spencer, and met in the Scandals parking lot.

“I haven’t done anything like this since I sang on _Wicked_ ’s stage,” Kurt laughed, flinging his arms around Blaine.

Blaine laughed, too, and led Kurt in. There was no way their fake IDs passed muster (Grandmother would be _livid_ ), but the guy waved them in. Sebastian was at the bar, and he grinned at Blaine, though his expression dimmed when he saw Kurt. 

“Hey!” he said. “Blaine, so glad you could make it.”

Blaine smiled at him, keeping one hand tight around Kurt’s. “Sebastian, this is my boyfriend, Kurt. Kurt, this is Sebastian, one of the new Warblers.”

“Hey,” Sebastian said, his grin a little frosty.

Kurt nodded regally. “Hello.” He glanced around Scandals, trying to keep the distaste from his face. “So this is Scandals,” he said. “Seems quite… scandalous.”

“Blaine,” Sebastian said, “dance with me.”

Blaine looked at Kurt, who rolled his eyes. “I’ll get us drinks,” he said. “Go dance.”

Sebastian kept getting closer than Blaine felt comfortable with, and his hands wandered, but on the whole, it was fun. Every few seconds, Blaine looked at Kurt, perched by the bar the entire time, and finally Kurt sauntered over, grinning as he pulled Blaine into a kiss. It was freeing, to be somewhere public and able to kiss without fear.

When they separated, breathless, Blaine was grinning, too.

Sebastian glared at Kurt and said, “Another dance, Blaine?”

“No, thanks,” Blaine shouted over the music, as Kurt put his arms around Blaine, getting in close as possible. Sebastian huffed and stalked back to the bar.

Kurt laughed and leaned in to whisper-shout in Blaine’s ear, “Someone’s jealous.”

Blaine twirled him around, exhilarated at how wonderful it felt to be able to touch and hold and kiss, and he kissed Kurt again and again and again.

.

After less than an hour, Kurt said, “It’s time to go, sweetie. We need to get back before anyone notices.”

They’d migrated to the bar; Blaine downed Cokes because the last (and only) time he got drunk was a disaster, and Kurt had nursed a water for twenty minutes.

“Too shy to stay?” Sebastian asked, smirking nastily at Kurt. He looked at Blaine, smirk shifting into a leer. “I’ll keep you company if your girlfriend’s gotta get home.”

Blaine said, “What?” while Kurt scoffed. “Is that _really_ the best you have?” he asked. “Unimpressive, just like something else about you, I bet.”

Blaine’s eyes widened, and he raised his hand to muffle his laughter, but the man next to him laughed loud enough that a few others turned.

Sebastian straightened to his full height, a few inches taller than Kurt, and hissed, “What did you say?”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “You’ve been panting after Blaine since he visited Dalton, right? And you saw the news, so you’re after, what, the crown? Like Clarisse would let you sniff around for long.”

Blaine caressed the back of his hand, while he looked at Sebastian and decided to ignore the miniature pissing contest. “Thank you for inviting us, Sebastian, it’s been fun.” He tugged Kurt off the stool. “We need to get home.”

Sebastian glared at them both before smiling brightly. “It has been fun. But next time you should leave the boy-toy at home, Blaine. I can show you what a real man is like.”

Kurt studied Sebastian for a long moment, looking cold and remote and so beautiful Blaine’s breath caught. Then Kurt said, “Let’s go home.”

Sebastian trailed them to the door, and as the cameras flashed, he shoved between them, grabbed Blaine’s face, and kissed him. 

_Ohshit_ , Blaine thought, and then he pushed Sebastian away, falling back a step himself, and Kurt shouted something, and the cameras were _still_ flashing when Sebastian yelped, Joseph caught Blaine’s arm, Spencer grabbed Kurt, and they were shoved into a black SUV.

Joseph said into his radio, “Braedon, Hunter – fetch the boys’ cars home.”

Blaine and Kurt sat as close as possible while Joseph leveled them a look from shotgun. 

“Well,” Spencer said, turning the SUV out of the parking lot. “Joseph told me he’d trained you a bit. If we hadn’t been there, you’d’a kicked that little shit’s ass, right?”

“Yes,” Kurt said, holding his head high.

Joseph sighed. Blaine felt a little bad about having to be saved by their bodyguards, but Kurt was warm and strong next to him, squeezing his hand too tight, whole body strumming with tension. 

“Where are we going?” Blaine asked, stroking the back of Kurt’s hand.

“To see Her Majesty,” Joseph said. “There will need to be damage control.”

“I’m not sorry,” Kurt told them all. “He’s an ass, and I hope he limps for the rest of his life.”

Spencer grinned into the rearview mirror. “I like you, kid.”

“The boy’s family may try to make trouble,” Joseph said. “We’ll deal with that. But the media will be difficult.”

Kurt shrugged, clearly still furious. Blaine himself was starting to get angry as the adrenaline faded.

Sebastian had kissed him.

Sebastian had _kissed_ him. In front of cameras.

On purpose. The whole thing had been a set-up. From the start, when Sebastian invited him – he’d probably had it planned then. For what, his fifteen seconds of fame? Trying to be declared Blaine’s boyfriend, maybe?

Grandmother would’ve eaten him _alive_.

“We’re here,” Joseph said, opening his door. “Her Majesty is waiting.” He and Spencer got out.

Blaine looked at Kurt. “I love you,” he said. “I’m sorry about how the night ended.”

Kurt smiled. “It was fun, till the end. We should do it again sometime.”

“Yeah.” Blaine laughed. “If our keepers ever let us out again.”

“C’mon,” Kurt murmured, swinging his door open. “Time to face the music.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Tuesday, the day after his bouncy little boy-toy was outed as a prince – of all the _ridiculous_ things – Porcelain stopped by Sue’s office, bodyguard in tow.

On Tuesday, the day after his bouncy little boy-toy was outed as a prince – of all the _ridiculous_ things – Porcelain stopped by Sue’s office, bodyguard in tow. “Coach,” he said, “can we talk?”

Sue looked at him. After Becky, he was her favorite. He sang them to victory in his first year as her minion. He hadn’t rejoined after transferring back, but he honored her sister, and there’d always be a soft place in her stone heart for him just because of that.

She turned her laser gaze to his tag-along: on the short side, buzz-cut, eyes as blue as Porcelain’s, smirking. Handsome in a dangerous way. 

“Have a seat, Porcelain,” she said. “Who’s your friend?” She had her suspicions (she _knew_ those eyes), but surely even she had to be wrong in this instance.

“Eliot Spencer,” Porcelain said, and at her sharp look, the bodyguard’s smirk got even toothier.

“Ma’am,” Spencer said, giving her a respectful nod despite the smirk.

“Coach,” Porcelain broke in, cutting off her interrogation of Spencer. He’d gone missing five years ago after Moreau died in a sudden hostile takeover. 

“Why are you helping Queen Clarisse?” Porcelain asked. “You don’t like Blaine, and I can’t imagine you care at all about a nation thousands of miles away.”

Spencer leaned down to tell Porcelain, “I’ll be just outside.” 

“Thanks,” Porcelain said, but he kept those ice-blue eyes on Sue.

Sue didn’t watch Spencer go. She looked down at her desk, searching her formidable mind for which lie to tell. There were so many options, and the truth was embarrassing: out of all the reasons she had to ally herself with Clarisse Renaldo and her itty-bitty speck of land – although, commanding the loyalty of Eliot Spencer was impressive – the reason Sue decided to play along had _nothing_ to do with political machinations or bids for power.

The reasons she had thrown her considerable force behind Renaldo and Genovia was sitting in her office and staring at her, having grown up somewhere along the line. He’d been so small when she first noticed him. And now he was dating a prince and being protected by goddamned _Eliot Spencer_.

Oh, Jeannie would’ve loved to hear him sing. She should have arranged that when she had the chance.

“Coach,” Porcelain said again. His face was a blank mask. His bearing promised he’d wait all day, unless he got the explanation he wanted.

“I owe someone something,” she finally said, meeting his eyes. “Nothing that concerns you, Porcelain.”

He almost smiled. “Thank you, Coach,” he said quietly, rising smoothly to his feet. 

She couldn’t imagine him dropping a baton now. The boy who won her Nationals had grown into an elegant man, and soon enough, the whole world would see it.

“You’re welcome, Kurt,” she replied, equally soft, and then raised her voice to order Spencer, “Keep him safe.”

Spencer poked his head back in to smile and say, “Yes’m,” and then he escorted Porcelain away.

Sue pulled out her journal, turned to a new page, and wrote, _Today I learned that not only is Eliot Spencer alive, he’s at McKinley and protecting our own favorite Porcelain gay, Kurt Hummel_.

She paused, drumming her fingertips on her desk, then added, _If he’d been here last year, he’d have cleaned up this place for us_. Another pause as she reflected on herself. She could admit it, deep down in her heart where Jean lived, that even one Sue Sylvester had a few faults, and she may have fallen prey to them last year.

But no matter. Sue Sylvester did owe someone, and she paid her debts. So she wrote, _Journal, mark this day: I, Sue Sylvester, have joined forces with Clarisse Renaldo of Genovia. My own former minion Kurt Hummel will one day be the boy-toy of the king – and I’ll see to it he’s the happiest boy-toy in the world_.

She looked up as Becky bounced in; Becky had intel, so Sue closed her journal and put it back in her desk.

There was plotting to do.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Charlotte,” Grandmother commanded as she stepped in after Joseph, “contact the zoo.” She laced her arm through Blaine’s. “Come, my dear. We are off to have fun.”

Grandmother had a pot of tea in front of her and she let them squirm for a few minutes before saying, “Sit.”

Kurt kept his back straight and head high, but Blaine slouched down, trying to avoid Grandmother’s stare. Joseph stood behind him, Spencer behind Kurt.

So he and Kurt weren’t the only ones in trouble. Wonderful.

“Joseph,” Grandmother finally said after taking a delicate sip of tea. “Please tell me what happened earlier tonight.”

Standing at attention, Joseph reported, “His Highness and Mr. Hummel snuck out, Your Majesty. They believed they had shaken their protection detail; we allowed them to believe so and followed discreetly.”

“And where did the boys go?” Grandmother asked, sounding riveted. She rested her chin in her hand.

“They went to a bar,” Joseph said. “Another boy met them; we’ll have a full work-up on him by morning. He flirted with His Highness and baited Mr. Hummel.” Joseph paused. Grandmother raised an eyebrow and he continued, “Mr. Hummel decided it was time to leave. Since Spencer and I were trying to remain unseen, we were unable to prevent an assault on His Highness.”

Grandmother sat up straight, eyes narrowing. “An _assault_?” she repeated.

“It wasn’t – he just _kissed_ me,” Blaine said. “I mean, it’s not, I’m – hurt, or anything.”

“Just a kiss?” Kurt demanded, glaring at Blaine. “He grabbed your face, unwanted with no warning, held you still, and forced his lips on yours.”

Blaine helplessly shook his head. “Kurt,” he said, “It’s _not_ the same. Sebastian never touched me before tonight, and it was for the _cameras_.”

Kurt turned away. Blaine reached for his hand and Kurt avoided him, so Blaine wrapped his arms around himself and tried not to cry.

“What happened after the kiss?” Grandmother asked. 

“Spencer and I rushed over, but the boy, Sebastian, was already down. Mr. Hummel pulled him away from His Highness and kicked him, Your Majesty.” It sounded like Joseph might be smirking, but Blaine didn’t look to check.

“It was beautiful, Majesty,” Spencer said. “That boy won’t be thinkin’ with his downstairs brain for quite awhile.”

Grandmother nodded. “Thank you, gentlemen. Joseph, tell Charlotte to call whomever she needs; our policy will be defense of others, if the boy’s family tries to press charges.” She smiled, gazing past Blaine. “Joseph, Mr. Spencer, allow me time with the children, please.”

“Majesty,” they both said. The closing door sounded like a death knell.

Blaine really wanted to hold Kurt’s hand.

“I understand what tonight was about,” Grandmother said, pouring two cups of tea and setting them in front of Kurt and Blaine. “I myself got into some trouble when my betrothal to Rupert was announced. Being watched all the time, being shadowed by strangers – it was distressing. I tried to lose my bodyguard a few times in the early days.” She smiled at them, but Blaine couldn’t smile back.

“I never managed it, of course,” she said. “Just like tonight, you didn’t, either.”

“Grandmother,” Blaine said. “Please. Punish us or let us go home.” He was tired, and wounded, and needed to either wrap himself around Kurt or get out of his presence.

“You are seventeen, and not my child,” Grandmother said quietly. “I hope that you know how disappointed I am that you went out alone – you snuck out, so you know it wouldn’t have been approved. Something could have been arranged, Blaine. If we had known, the media would’ve been planned for and maybe tomorrow’s headlines avoided.”

Blaine winced at the _thought_ of what the papers would say. He glanced at Kurt, who was still staring at some point past Grandmother’s ear. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I was just… I thought it would be fun. Me and Kurt out together. And it was, until –”

“Until that boy assaulted you,” Grandmother finished gently.

“It wasn’t assault!” he shouted, lunging to his feet. His chair fell back with a clatter.

Grandmother simply looked at him and elegantly lifted her teacup for a dainty sip. Blaine’s fists clenched as he fought to control his temper; he closed his eyes, counting to ten in English and then French.

“What happened in ninth grade,” Blaine said, doing his best to keep his voice even. “That was assault. What happened to Kurt all the time, and then that one time – that was assault. But tonight? That was just a handsy douchebag trying for his fifteen minutes of fame.”

Kurt scoffed. Grandmother looked from one to the other but held her peace as Kurt said, “Like Karofsky wasn’t a handsy douchebag last year?”

A bolt of fear shot through Blaine and he turned to Kurt in a panic. “Did something else –”

“ _No_ ,” Kurt said firmly. He met Blaine’s eyes. “Just lockerslams and that bout of theft in the hall, I promise.” He paused and then slowly held out a hand, which Blaine quickly claimed with his own.

“I’ll give you a minute,” Grandmother said. “Joseph has alerted both your fathers.”

Blaine sighed, but he couldn’t help smiling almost immediately because Kurt was holding his hand again.

Grandmother left the room, closing the door gently behind her. Kurt slipped out of his chair and knelt between Blaine’s legs, still holding his hand and wrapping his other arm around Blaine’s waist. “He grabbed your face, held you still, and shoved his disgusting lips on you,” Kurt said softly. “He’d been touching you all night, and watching you, and I thought…” Kurt laughed, resting his forehead on Blaine’s stomach. “I thought he was harmless, Blaine. I thought I disliked him because he was so clearly after you.”

“It wasn’t the same,” Blaine whispered, using his free hand to cup Kurt’s cheek. Kurt closed his eyes, nuzzling into the touch. “I’m not afraid of Sebastian. He’s never hurt me.” He chuckled. “According to Spencer, he’ll probably never come near us again.”

Kurt’s eyes blinked open and Blaine really wanted to kiss him. “Will you kiss me?” he asked.

Eyes sparkling, Kurt surged upwards and Blaine replaced the stale-beer-taste of Sebastian with Kurt.

.

Of course, Dad was furious when Joseph brought Blaine home. He didn’t yell, though. Dad never raised his voice. He just gave Blaine his disappointed look and quietly asked Blaine to go to his room, saying they’d talk in the morning. He also took Blaine’s phone, informing him he _might_ get it back in the morning.

“I shall text Mr. Hummel your goodnight,” Joseph said. “Go to sleep, Your Highness.”

Blaine only remembered one dream that night: a nightmare where Sebastian locked Kurt in a room with Karofsky and all Blaine could do was listen to their mingled laughter and screams.

He fell out of bed just after six and hurried downstairs to the kitchen where Dad had just started his coffee. He didn’t even wait for his cellphone; he used their landline to dial Kurt’s (just in case Burt had stolen Kurt’s cell, too) and held his breath until Carole answered. 

“Hello?” she said, wide awake. “Hummel-Hudson residence.”

“Carole,” he said, trying in vain to forget his nightmare, “I need to talk to Kurt. Please.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said. “Just a minute, okay?”

Blaine held his breath again. When Kurt said, “Blaine, what’s wrong?” he sank to the floor, back against the counter, and replied tearfully, “Thank god you’re alright.”

Dad and Joseph were staring at him when he looked up, but Blaine ignored them. “Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Kurt asked a second time. “I’m fine. I mean, I made the front page, but at least I look wonderful on it. And Dad actually yelled at me last night, if you can believe that. Yelled! Apparently, your grandmother terrified him about my safety, somehow.”

Blaine repeated, “You made the front page?”

Dad’s eyes widened. Joseph nodded. He murmured to Dad, “Eaton fetched the paper,” and grabbed it off the table, unfolded and holding it up for Blaine to see.

And there, in full color, was last night: Sebastian kissing him, Sebastian curled up on the ground, Joseph and Spencer hurrying Blaine and Kurt away. And the headline – Blaine groaned and closed his eyes, letting the back of his head hit the cabinet behind him.

“‘Royal out of control?’” he said in horror. “Really?” 

Kurt laughed. “I love you, Blaine. I’ll see you at school.”

“Love you, too,” Blaine replied, and let the phone dangle from his fingers as he stared at the newspaper. 

Joseph held it out. “Would you like to read it, Your Highness?” 

“No,” he said sharply. But then he sighed, pushed himself to his feet, and took it, muttering, “Might as well.”

.

Spencer and Kurt were waiting for them in the parking lot – along with all of New Directions and what seemed like half the school. But thankfully, everyone was keeping their distance. Probably because of Spencer’s glare, but maybe because of how the article about last night made it seem like Kurt had beaten Sebastian half to death.

Kurt smiled at him, ignored the crowd, and kissed him. Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt, ignored the crowd, and kissed him back.

Shockingly enough, the crowd dispersed with barely any vitriol spewed at them. When they separated, Blaine even saw a few girls giving them dewy-eyed looks.

Only the glee club remained when Kurt and Blaine separated from a second kiss.

“Okay,” Santana announced, “that was hot.”

Finn gave her a horrified look while Brittany and Tina nodded fervently, and Lauren said, “Hell yeah.”

“Next time you have a barfight, invite Puckzilla,” Puck told them. “D’ya need me to beat the shit outta that punk for you?”

“No,” Joseph said.

“Dude, you’re like a ninja!” Sam said. “I totally forgot you were even there.”

“We should get to class,” Rachel proclaimed. “Kurt, Blaine, we wished to ascertain your health, but you seem well.”

Kurt rolled his eyes at Blaine. “Thank you for the concern, Rachel.” He said louder, for everyone, “We’re fine. We’ll see you in class or at lunch.”

Mercedes stepped forward as most of them headed for the front door. “Can I talk to you, Kurt?”

“Yes,” he said. He gave Blaine a quick kiss to the cheek, nodded to Spencer to lead the way, and walked with Mercedes.

Blaine looked around the empty parking lot and murmured, “Wow.”

Joseph chuckled before saying, “Come along, Your Highness.” 

.

A few people – bullies, mostly, though Blaine thought one of them might be in the AV club – asked if Blaine had dumped Kurt. Blaine didn’t respond to any of them, but in math, one of the girls asked in reply, “You weren’t in the parking lot this morning, were you?” 

Then she pulled out her phone and _played the video_. 

Blaine groaned and let his head hit the desk. Of course somebody had filmed it. Probably more than one. It’d be uploaded to the internet, more than likely _already was_ , and some old lord in Genovia would petition Grandmother, and she’d announced on Saturday that Blaine forfeited the throne.

Mrs. Dalker dropped her book on her desk and had instant silence. “Enough chatter,” she said. “Pencils and paper out – pop quiz time. If anyone makes a hundred, they’ll get five points added to their mid-term exam.”

The rest of the period was silent. Blaine was pretty sure he made at least an A. When the bell rang, he hurried out of the room ahead of Joseph, but Joseph caught up in the hall and glared forbiddingly at anyone who approached.

Karofsky nodded as he passed by, but Blaine thought back to his nightmare and flinched. Thankfully, Karofsky didn’t see, even though Joseph did. But Joseph, like always, kept his own counsel and simply took up his position at the back of Mr. Fredericks’ history classroom.

.

Blaine jotted down the highlights of the lecture, but his mind kept wandering. The ball was two days away. The announcement making it official that Blaine was the Crown Prince of Genovia. Queen Clarisse’s heir. Future king. And Blaine had spent _weeks_ dreading it, sure he didn’t want it… but now that it might be taken away… 

The bell rang. Blaine followed Joseph to the cafeteria, but his mind was elsewhere. He noticed that instead of quieting, the noise level increased, but Kurt pulled him down into the chair next to him and kept talking to Mike about dance styles. Brittany added a few comments that sounded shockingly knowledgeable, but then Blaine remembered that Brittany used to dance with Kurt. Kurt mentioned it once: he and Brittany had been in the same classes as kids, so they started high-school already semi-friends.

Puck was trying to talk to Spencer about being a bodyguard. Spencer ignored him and kept munching on a granola bar. Blaine frowned and looked up at Joseph. “I haven’t seen either of you eat,” he said.

Joseph shrugged; Spencer grinned. 

.

After school on Thursday, Blaine had a meeting with Grandmother. Kurt went home with Spencer and promised to finalize his possible outfits for the ball. He wanted Grandmother to okay his choices before he made his _final_ final selection.

“Blaine, today we will conduct one last test,” Grandmother said. She stood and waited; Blaine carefully pushed back his chair, stood, and walked around the table, where he stopped by Grandmother and offered his arm.

“Good,” Grandmother praised. “Escort me to the dining table.”

Blaine had noticed a table full of plates when he first arrived. He escorted Grandmother to it as gracefully as he could, pulled out her chair, and offered his hand in case she lost her balance.

“Well done,” she said. “Now, please, sit. We have a meal to eat.”

Mom had given Blaine a few etiquette lessons, and Grandmom continued them irregularly after her death. Grandmother’s lessons, though, had been rigorous. By the end of the meal, Grandmother had corrected only one mistake.

Their discussion ranged from current events to classical literature to philosophy. Grandmother gently explained a few points he had wrong, but as their places were cleared away, she said, “I am impressed, Blaine.”

“Really?” he asked. She nodded and patted his hand. He gathered all his courage to ask, “So you won’t announce on Saturday that I forfeit my place as heir?”

She stared at him. “Of course not, Blaine. What on Earth – oh.” She squeezed his hand. “This is about last night. And today’s headline, I imagine.” Grandmother laughed. “Your father did far more scandalous things, I assure you.”

Blaine said, “But the people knew him. He grew up with them. He actually _spoke their language_. I’m just…” He shrugged and pulled his hand away. “I’m just some American interloper. They’ll never want me as much.”

“Oh, my dear,” Grandmother said, standing and walking around the table. She pulled his chair back and held out her arms. It took a moment, but when he finally realized what she wanted, Blaine threw himself at her and shared his first hug with his grandmother.

“My dear boy,” she whispered, “the people will love you.” She kissed the side of his head and rubbed circles on his back, and waited until he pulled away to let go.

He was too embarrassed to look at her, and she gently grabbed and squeezed his hand. “We should do something fun,” she said.

“Fun?” he snorted. “On a Thursday afternoon in Lima?” 

Grandmother said, “Oh, there must be something. It’s a beautiful day, sunny with barely a chill in the air.”

“We can go to the zoo,” Blaine suggested. He chuckled at her look. “What?” he said. “Really, Grandmother – when’s the last time you went to the zoo?” 

“Oh, it’s been years,” she replied. “I can’t remember…” She tapped her finger against her lips. “Rupert and I visited after the renovations; Philippe was still young, then. I did enjoy it.” She nodded firmly. “Very well.” Grandmother patted his shoulder and called, “Joseph!” As he entered the room, she announced, “My grandson and I are going to Lima’s zoo.” 

“Of course, Your Majesty,” he said, and then into his radio, “Ryell, Braedon – the eagle and sparrow are about to take wing.”

Blaine rolled his eyes. It didn’t matter how many times he heard their designations: they always sounded ridiculous. He was afraid to ask what Kurt’s was.

“Charlotte,” Grandmother commanded as she stepped in after Joseph, “contact the zoo.” She laced her arm through Blaine’s. “Come, my dear. We are off to have fun.”

He grinned, and actually felt excited. “Can we go incognito?” he asked.

“Of course not,” Grandmother said. “So far, you have seen the downsides of being royal, but there are perks, too.” She grinned at him, looking decades younger. Blaine couldn’t help smiling in return.

.

In the limo, Blaine texted his dad and Kurt: _Going to zoo with Grandmother! We’ll be back when we’re back._

Dad replied, _Have fun_. Kurt sent, _:)_ and then a few minutes later, _I emailed you my final choices. Show them to the queen._

Blaine obediently said, “Grandmother, Kurt just emailed me his final choices for the ball. He’d like you to okay them; can I forward ‘em to you?”

“Very well,” Grandmother said, putting on her glasses. She knocked on the partition and as it rolled down, she commanded, “Joseph, my phone.” 

Grinning down at his own phone, Blaine forwarded Kurt’s email. Kurt’s selections were in six attachments, each with three pictures: the entire ensemble laid out on a table, then Kurt wearing them, back and front. Blaine chuckled, wondering who Kurt had conscripted to take the pictures. 

“Oh, these are nice,” Grandmother murmured. “Mr. Hummel does have a discerning eye.”

Blaine nodded. “He’s annoyed that you’ve already decided my outfit for the ball.”

Grandmother laughed. “Oh, the poor boy. I’ll need to reassure him that he’ll have many opportunities to dress you in the future.” 

While Grandmother scrutinized Kurt’s outfits, Blaine played Harbor Master on his phone, grumbling every time he had a collision. Finally, as the limo turned into the zoo parking lot, Grandmother handed Blaine her phone with the fourth outfit up. “This one is my favorite,” she said. “But let him know I approve of them all.” 

Blaine quickly sent, _She picks #4. Off to see the komodos!_ and slipped his phone into his pocket as he got out of the limo. 

“Perimeter is secure, sir,” one of the suits – Ryell, Blaine was sure it was Ryell – said to Joseph. “The zoo director would like to greet Her Majesty.” 

“Of course,” Joseph said. Ryell took the lead, with Braedon bringing up the rear, and Joseph escorted Grandmother while Blaine walked on her other side. 

It’d been awhile since he went to the zoo, and he was totally looking forward to seeing the Komodo dragons. And the tigers. And the flying foxes. Those had been his favorite, when he was a kid. 

“Your Majesty, this is the zoo director, Thomas Zyson,” Ryell said, as they paused at the gate. “Mr. Zyson, this is Her Majesty Queen Clarisse Renaldo of Genovia and His Highness Blaine Anderson of Genovia.” 

Mr. Zyson was younger than Grandmother, taller than Joseph, pale, and quite clearly very nervous. “It’s wonderful to meet you,” he said, stumbling into a bow. “Thank you for coming to our zoo, Your Majesty.” 

“Blaine suggested it,” Grandmother said. “It’s been such a long time since I’ve been to a zoo.” She smiled graciously. “I’m sure it’ll be as wonderful as I remember.” 

“Yes, yes, Ma’am,” Mr. Zyson stuttered. “Please, I’ll take you on a tour, if you like?”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, Mr. Zyson,” Grandmother said. “This afternoon, I think we’d like to just wander, if that’s not too much trouble.” 

“Of course not!” he replied, completely flabbergasted that she’s asking for his permission. 

Blaine was completely in awe of how well she took command without seeming to. 

“Thank you, Mr. Zyson,” Grandmother said kindly. Ryell took lead again; Braedon followed. Joseph circled around Grandmother and Blaine, and it all seemed so effortless. This was going to be his life until he died.

But it was a fun afternoon, and Grandmother was appropriately wowed by the Komodo dragons, promising to add a few to the Genovian National Zoo. 

Blaine didn’t check his phone again until they were back in the limo, headed for the Hilton. Wes had texted him, he had a voicemail from Grandmom saying she was on the way to Lima, and Grandma had texted him flight details. 

He had a sudden vision of his three grandmothers in a room and nearly sprained something trying not to laugh. Grandmother gave him an odd look but returned to checking her emails.

Kurt’s three texts were, _I’ll tweak #4. So glad she likes it!_ , then _Blaine, why is Finn trailing me like a sad puppy? Does he really think that’ll earn him forgiveness?_ and finally, _Holy SHIT, I’m going to a ball in TWO DAYS!_ Blaine smiled down at his phone, flicking his gaze at Grandmother when she muttered something in French that sounded like it might be a curse. 

_I like #4, too,_ he typed. _And Finn’s mind is a mystery to me, you know that_. He paused to tell Grandmother, “I’d like to take Kurt out on a date tomorrow night, after his family dinner.” She glanced up from her phone. “One final night as just us, before there are formal declarations of royalty, you know?” 

Grandmother nodded, smiling. “I do know, Blaine. Clear all the details with Joseph and I see no problem.” 

“Thanks,” he said, and finished his text with, _I wanna do something tom night. I’ll call you when I’m home._

Blaine played Harbor Master on his phone until Grandmother said, “We should test your French.” 

He groaned as one of the little ships hit the annoyingly slow and big one, a single point away from beating his record, _and_ he had no rewinds left. He let his phone drop and whined, “Do we have to?” 

“Yes,” Grandmother said firmly. Then she asked, slowly and clearly, in French, “Tell me about your boyfriend.” 

Blaine could totally do that.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Joseph,” he said after clicking on his radio. “I have information regarding Kurt’s interactions with Karofsky from last year.”

“Well, kid,” Eliot laughed as they pulled into Kurt’s driveway, “you sure impressed me tonight.” 

“Thanks,” Kurt muttered. “I’m glad.” He kept staring out his window, avoiding Eliot’s gaze. 

“Kid,” Eliot said. “Yeah, the both of you screwed up tonight, but so did we. And that little douche movin’ in on your boy – no one’ll blame you for kickin’ him in the jewels.”

Kurt scoffed. Not the problem, then.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Kurt,” Eliot said softly, turning off the car. “Please.” He hadn’t expected to like the kid so much. He’d just been returning a favor, wiping his debt to Joseph clean, protecting the kid ‘til Joseph found someone else just as good. But the past couple of days – just since yesterday morning, really? – had been _fun_. Kurt was an awesome little guy. Razor sharp wit, excellent mask, totally in love with Joseph’s boy. Eliot really did like him.

“Blaine doesn’t get it,” Kurt whispered, shifting so that he could look at Eliot. The streetlight caught his eyes and Eliot studied his face. This was the Kurt he hadn’t met yet: the sad Kurt, the quiet Kurt… the Kurt who Joseph’s boy, His Highness, met last year, according to Joseph’s reports. The Kurt who suffered some sort of trauma he only told Blaine about, and Blaine sure wasn’t telling anyone else.

A boy at McKinley, they knew, had threatened to kill Kurt – and Kurt believed him. But that same boy was atoning now. Eliot had seen him in the halls, trying to stop bullying. (He’d also seen a lingering, _longing_ look directed Kurt’s way.) 

But judging by Kurt’s expression, and how quickly he had reacted, and that boy’s gaze…

“That boy last year,” Eliot said, “he did more than threaten you.”

Joseph had his suspicions; they’d been noted in the file Eliot memorized. As far as Eliot was concerned, those suspicions had just been confirmed.

Kurt nodded and rubbed at his eyes, looking away again. “He stalked me at school,” Kurt said. “I never knew if he’d be around the next corner, or swoop out of nowhere to shove me into a locker.” He sighed, letting his head hit the headrest. “It got worse after – after he kissed me,” Kurt murmured. “That’s when things got terrifying.” 

Well, now Kurt’s reaction made all kinds of sense.

“Did he do anything besides kiss you?” Eliot asked, voice carefully blank.

“He said he’d kill me if I told,” Kurt replied. “I’d already told Blaine by then. I think that’s what pushed him over – knowing someone else knew.” He sighed heavily. “The stalking got even creepier after that.” Kurt lifted his hand to rub his forehead. “For awhile, I was sure he’d do more than kiss me, if he ever got the chance.” Kurt laughed a little, totally without humor. “That’s the first time I’ve said anything to anyone, since Blaine,” he muttered. 

Eliot’s fists clenched. Kurt was a good kid, and to think of some boy as big as that Karofsky hurting him – Joseph had trained Kurt a bit, and he’d had a smidge of skill before that, but nowhere near enough to matter. 

“Don’t do anything to him,” Kurt ordered quietly. “He’s trying. He hasn’t spoken to me, except for Monday, since prom.”

“What happened on Monday?” Eliot asked.

The porch light went on. Mr. Hummel was waiting for them to go in. Judging by what he knew and had observed about the man, he’d be livid. Kurt tried to slip the leash and ditch protection.

“Karofsky protected us from the reporters,” Kurt said. “He’s better this year.”

 _And crushing hard_ , Eliot didn’t say, as he unlocked the doors and waited for Kurt in front of the car. “Do you trust him?” he asked as they walked up to the porch.

“No,” Kurt whispered as Mr. Hummel opened the door.

Mr. Hummel backed up, giving them room to step in. He glared at Eliot and demanded, “You let ‘em do this?”

“Yes, sir,” Eliot said, standing at parade rest. “We had a chance to stop them and chose not to.”

Mr. Hummel snorted and turned his formidable glare on his son. “What were you thinkin’, Kurt?” he pulled off his ballcap, twisting it around in his hands. “Do you have _any_ idea what could’ve happened to you?”

“Dad,” Kurt said, “It’s not –” 

“Don’t you _dare_ try to downplay this, Kurt!” Mr. Hummel shouted. “You don’t sneak out, you don’t shake your bodyguard – goddamnit, Kurt, you _have_ a bodyguard for a reason.” He slumped down. “Kurt, you don’t get it.”

“I’m sorry,” Kurt whispered, sounding small and sad and like he was about to cry. “I didn’t think – we were tired of being shadowed and it was fun, Dad, it was, until that – _that_ –” Kurt took a deep breath.

“What happened?” Mr. Hummel asked, jamming his hat back on his head. “All Joseph said was that there’d been an altercation after you boys snuck out.”

Kurt hung his head, sighing. “Sebastian, one of the Warblers, called the media, then kissed Blaine for the cameras. So I kicked him in the balls.” 

Mr. Hummel stared at him. “You did what?”

Eliot decided to let them talk alone. “Sir, Kurt,” he said, “I’ll go check in with Smith and let him take over for the night.” He nodded to them both. “I’ll see you in the mornin’.”

“Night,” Mr. Hummel said.

Kurt smiled at him. “Thank you, Eliot,” he said. “And what we talked about –”

“I’m gonna tell Joseph and the queen.” When the kid sagged down dejectedly, Eliot patted him on the shoulder. “Sorry,” he muttered, and then headed for the room where he and Smith were set up.

“Joseph,” he said after clicking on his radio. “I have information regarding Kurt’s interactions with Karofsky from last year.”

“Speak,” Joseph ordered, so Eliot did, as succinctly as possible. “Get some sleep,” Joseph commanded when he was done. “Good work tonight, Spencer.”

Eliot didn’t think so. He and Joseph had both dropped the ball, and as glad as Eliot was Kurt could handle teenaged douchebags, Eliot knew that he clearly had to step it up a notch. 

Also, as soon as the dance/dinner/party thing died down, he’d be teaching the kid a few new moves, dirty tricks he was pretty sure even Joseph didn’t know.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were making out, Blaine practically in Kurt’s lap, when Joseph opened the door. “We are here, Your Highness,” he said blandly, while Spencer didn’t even try to hide his shit-eating grin.

Joseph and Spencer sat up front while Blaine and Kurt cuddled in the back of the limo. Blaine had reservations for the swankiest restaurant in Lima. When the hostess realized who was trying to make a reservation (at the last minute, no less), she called the manager, who promised that Blaine would not only have the best table in the house, he wouldn’t have to pay a dime.

There were a few perks to the royal thing, Blaine admitted. Joseph had promised that no reporters would interrupt their evening, and Blaine decided to trust him. He wanted a perfect night with Kurt before everything exploded.

Kurt smiled at him, asking, “When’s the last time we sang together?”

“I… I don’t know,” Blaine replied. “I can’t remember.”

“Me either,” Kurt said. “But we have this limo all to ourselves, and I wanna sing with you.” He paused, ducking his head so he could look up at Blaine through his lashes. “But you do remember that song we used to sing? By your favorite artist?”

“Oh, yes,” Blaine said, leaning forward for a quick kiss before he said, “You start, babe.” 

Blaine hummed the tune while Kurt swayed beside him, and he couldn’t help but smile as Kurt sang,   
“Made a wrong turn, once or twice; dug my way out, blood and fire. Bad decisions, that's alright.” Kurt gave a cute little shrug, grinning at Blaine as he continued, “Welcome to my silly life.” His voice strengthened with, “Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood, Miss _no way, it's all good_ , it didn't slow me down. Mistaken, always second guessing, underestimated – look, I'm still around.” 

Kurt nodded to Blaine, so he joined in on, “Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel like you’re less than, less than perfect. Pretty, pretty please if you ever, ever feel like you’re nothing, you are perfect to me.” 

They sang the whole song, and it was so much fun – Blaine had almost forgotten how much he loved singing with Kurt, no one else contributing. Just him and Kurt, voices so beautiful together. He laughed at Kurt’s little hand motion for “drinking ice cold beer” and they sang, “Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel like you're nothing - you are perfect to me,” staring directly into each other’s eyes. 

.

They were making out, Blaine practically in Kurt’s lap, when Joseph opened the door. “We are here, Your Highness,” he said blandly, while Spencer didn’t even try to hide his shit-eating grin.

“Thank you, Joseph,” Blaine said, as dignified as he could, sliding away from Kurt. But Kurt leaned over to hide his face behind Blaine’s shoulder, laughing. 

Joseph and Spencer waited while Blaine fought down the urge to slam the door and jump Kurt, plans and bodyguards be damned. Finally, Kurt sat upright, perfectly composed. He smoothly exited the limo and turned, holding out his hand for Blaine. 

“Come, Your Highness,” he purred, smirking wickedly. 

Blaine swallowed heavily. He really wished they’d stayed in tonight.

.

A few of the other people in the restaurant stared, but on the whole, the night was as perfect as Blaine had imagined. He and Kurt talked about fashion and music and books and New York vs Pyrus, the capitol of Genovia. Blaine was still applying to NYU and a dozen other places in and around New York. He’d already talked to Grandmother about it. Kurt would apply to Julliard and a quite a few others in New York, and they’d go to New York after summering in Pyrus. 

Kurt was very excited to be staying in an actual _castle_. Blaine was petrified, but Grandmother promised that everyone who lived and worked at the palace would be kind.

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” Kurt told him as they stood on the porch, ignoring the limo idling in the driveway, Spencer leaning against the passenger door, and Burt probably lurking in the front hall. “Tomorrow, the world will hear you declare yourself the heir. Queen Clarisse will claim you as her grandson, the only child of Prince Eduard Christophe Philippe Gerard Renaldo. And the people will cheer,” Kurt whispered, one of his hands threading through Blaine’s hair, ungelled because Kurt preferred it that way. “The people will adore you, Blaine Philippe Rupert Anderson Renaldo.” Kurt pressed a feathersoft kiss to Blaine’s lips, whispering into his mouth, “Prince of Genovia.”

“I love you,” Blaine whispered back. “Thank you for everything.”

“I love _you_ ,” Kurt replied, resting his head on Blaine’s shoulder. “You take my breath away.”

.

“Sleep well,” Joseph told Blaine as he went to the office where Eaton and Kendrick had set up their things. 

“You, too, Joseph,” Blaine said, pausing by Dad’s office. He used to bring work home all the time until Mom died. He tried scaling back his hours after that, and Blaine knew things had been crazy for him since the whole prince thing started.

Blaine knocked on the door and Dad called, “Come in!”

Dad turned his chair away from the computer. “Blaine,” he said, “I thought you were going out with Kurt tonight.”

“I did,” Blaine replied. “But we have a busy day tomorrow and it’s after nine.”

Dad blinked, looking down at his watch. “Oh, wow, I didn’t even notice.”

“Can we talk, Dad? About, about tomorrow, and this summer, and the rest of my life?” Blaine asked. He’d discussed it with Grandmother and Kurt and Joseph, and Wes this afternoon, but he’d only gone over the bare bones with Dad. everything had been so _insane_ for the past month, and he knew that Dad would do whatever he could.

“Sure, Blaine,” Dad said, standing up and stretching. “Want some cocoa?” 

Blaine nodded. Mom had died on the coldest night of the year, so Dad made hot cocoa and swore things would eventually be alright. He brought cocoa from home when Blaine was trapped in a hospital bed after the dance debacle in freshman year. A part of Blaine still believed hot cocoa could heal. 

So Blaine sat at the table while Dad put the teapot on and got out two mugs. Dad wasn’t high-tech: he just emptied two packets of instant cocoa mix in the mugs, set them by the stove, and sat across from Blaine.

“Dad,” Blaine said, “tomorrow I’ll officially become Genovia’s Crown Prince.” 

“Yes.” Dad nodded. “Clarisse and I already discussed that.”

“You – you did?” Blaine asked, his plans for this conversation momentarily derailed.

“Of course we did,” Dad said. “When she and Joseph first approached me. By Genovian law, you’re still a minor, Blaine. And by American law, you’re still in my care for seven more months. Clarisse has no claim to you, legally, without my permission.”

“Really?” Blaine shook his head. “I didn’t know that.” 

Dad laughed before asking, “You want to go to Genovia for the summer, right?” Blaine nodded. Dad continued, “And then college in New York, before going back to Genovia to learn the government.” Blaine nodded again, still somewhat in shock that Dad knew his plan so well. 

“Blaine,” Dad said warmly, “you and Kurt really are transparent. And Joseph talks with me at breakfast before you get up.” 

Blaine ducked his head, chuckling. “Well, now I feel silly,” he muttered. 

“Don’t feel silly,” Dad told him. “You’re a teenager in love. I’ve been there.” They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Dad said, “You’re getting so big now. I can’t…” He turned his face away, wiping at his eyes. 

“Dad,” Blaine said. “I haven’t… thank you. For everything. For adopting me. For loving me, even though I’m not your own. Just… _thank you_.” 

Dad stood, moved around the table, and pulled Blaine into a hug. “Of course I love you,” he said into Blaine’s hair. “You’re my son. I couldn’t do anything else.” 

The teapot shrieked. Dad chuckled and went to pour the water into the mugs. Then they sat at the table and talked until their cocoa was gone, about Dad’s work and Blaine’s classes and the terrible movies Dad liked and Blaine’s favorite genre of music this week. 

After Blaine put their mugs in the sink, Dad pulled him into one more hug and whispered, “Good night, son.” 

“Night, Dad,” Blaine said, and he actually felt he might be able to do this.

.

Of course, the next morning Blaine woke up yelling because of a nightmare where the crown tried to eat him. But he called Kurt and Kurt was able to calm him down, so he headed for the kitchen and his last breakfast as Blaine Anderson. He focused on his eggs, and Dad explaining the advertising business to Joseph, and beating his high score on Harbor Master. He didn’t think about dinners or balls or the speech he’d been unable to memorize. (Kurt and Grandmother had both written him one.)

“Your Highness,” Joseph said after Blaine had set his plate and cup in the sink. “We need to go to the Hilton now.” 

“Yeah,” Blaine muttered. His stomach hurt, and his hands were shaking. He hadn’t been this nervous even when he approached Kurt about “Candles,” or his first day at Dalton after the dance. 

“Don’t be worried, Your Highness,” Joseph told him kindly. “Her Majesty has planned everything.” 

“Yeah.” Blaine chuckled. “And anything she didn’t think of, Kurt has.” 

Joseph smiled. “Yes, Your Highness.”

.

There were a bunch of last minute things to take care of (apparently, there was some sort of shortage in the kitchen, Grandmother’s favorite chef had a last-minute emergency, a computer glitch meant two nobles who didn’t get along were in the same hall, and on and on), so Grandmother sat Blaine in her office and told him to stay out of the way. 

He looked around the office, bored. It was really just a meeting room Grandmother had commandeered. The hotel manager was falling all over himself to give Grandmother anything she wanted, and she wanted an elegant place to throw a ball. They could have gone to New York, or even Cincinnati or Cleveland, anywhere but _Lima_ \- but Grandmother declared that the prince had grown up in the area, and so it was there the announcement must be made. 

Whatever. It was still a dinner and a ball, and Blaine would have to be the perfect prince, and, oh, look, he was about to panic again. 

_Deep breaths,_ he told himself. _You can do this, Blaine._ He chuckled silently, thinking, _Courage_. Yes. Courage. 

He could so totally do this. It couldn’t really be any more terrifying than meeting Burt Hummel as the boyfriend after first being found drunk in Kurt’s bed, and then telling Burt to give him a talk about sex. 

Yeah. He nodded firmly, resolved. He’d make Mom, Dad, Grandmother, Grandmom, Grandma, and Kurt _all_ proud tonight. 

.

Blaine ate lunch with Grandmother in her office. “Are you nervous?” she asked, neatly cutting her sandwich into thirds.

“Not anymore,” he told her truthfully. 

She smiled. “Very good, Blaine. This is the first of many events you shall attend or host in Genovia’s name. Tonight is a celebration.” She reached across the table to pat his hand. “We are honoring _you_ , our heir at last coming home.” 

“Why didn’t you ever approach me before?” he asked, carefully pulling his sandwich apart. “You knew about me for seventeen years… why wait until now?”

Grandmother focused on her sandwich. “Originally, we were waiting to see if Philippe ever found a suitable woman to wed and have more children with. You would always be the firstborn, but if he married a Genovian, things might be easier. And then after Philippe died, Rupert and I had hoped to wait until you were eighteen. Rupert was still king, and Parliament accepted that he had yet to name an heir. But Rupert succumbed late last year, and I held off the vultures for as long as I could.” 

“You don’t think my mother was suitable?” Blaine asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Oh, my dear, that is not what I meant at all!” Grandmother sounded shocked and she dropped the piece of sandwich she’d been bringing to her mouth. “She simply wasn’t Genovian. But we announced your existence to the Parliament when questions were first raised regarding the heir, as Rupert’s health began declining. If there had been any other heir, I would no longer be queen, but because of how delicate an operation this would be – you _are_ the only heir.” Grandmother paused, glancing at him. “You are a bright, wonderful boy, Blaine. I am glad that of all the children my son could’ve had, _you_ are his son.” 

Blaine sighed, and smiled, and finished his sandwich.

.

“You’ll make an entrance,” Grandmother told him. “I’ll welcome everyone and then announce you. We’ll all sit down to dinner, you’ll delight our guests, and then it will be time for the ball.” 

He nodded, staring at the regalia she’d set out for him. It had a black tailcoat with green lapels, a black bowtie, pants like he’d worn to prom, a white shirt, and his father’s ring. “Is it fancy enough?” he asked. 

Grandmother actually _giggled_. Blaine gaped at her before pressing his lips together so that he wouldn’t laugh. 

“It will be more than sufficient, Blaine, I assure you.” She touched his shoulder as she headed for the door. “We have a little more than an hour, Blaine; I need to get ready.” She stopped at the door to look back. “If you need help, Joseph will be able to assist you. I’ll see you tonight.” She turned to leave and looked back once more to say, “I love you, Blaine,” and then she gently closed the door behind her.

Blaine smiled, tilting his head to look at the clothes. 

He could so totally do this.

.

“Your Highness,” Joseph said as Blaine waited in the hall, half a dozen suits in sight. “It is time.” 

Blaine nodded, and told himself, _Take a breath. Count to ten._ He turned to face the doorway, and could hear through the door, “… my grandson….” _Seven, eight, nine,_ and then, a deep breath, _ten_. 

He walked through the door.

.

Blaine ignored everyone in the room but Kurt, who looked amazing in an embroidered black tailcoat, blue vest, a shirt just like Blaine’s, a slim green tie, a kilt identical to his prom one (well, it probably wasn’t, but Blaine sure couldn’t tell the difference), and his awesome ass-kicking boots.

Kurt smiled at him, bouncing in place, and Dad was beaming next to him. Blaine felt a surge of confidence go through him and he turned to Grandmother, who stepped back from the podium. 

“Thank you all for being here,” he said. “I have to admit, at first I thought my life was over when Grandmother introduced herself and told me I was her grandson. I didn’t even know – well, that’s not important.” He caught Dad’s eye and paused, giving himself a moment to think. Glancing at Kurt, he continued, “I didn’t want to be a prince. I had a plan and I was sure that accepting the truth would steal it from me. But dreams can change. They can evolve into something better, something you never even imagined.” 

He let his gaze leave Kurt, to look at everyone else in the room. All of the most powerful Genovians had traveled for the announcement, and all the major papers had a reporter present. Blaine’s only guests were Kurt and Dad; everyone else was from Genovia or one of Grandmother’s allies. There was a couple glaring at him, though. He’d have to ask Grandmother who they were. 

“This morning, I woke Blaine Philippe Anderson,” he said, glancing at Grandmother. “But I am, now and forevermore, Blaine Philippe Rupert Anderson Renaldo.” He paused, looking back at Kurt and meeting his eyes as he said, “Prince of Genovia.”

Kurt led the cheering. Grandmother placed a plain silver circlet on Blaine’s head and two of her minions brought Blaine a cape in Genovian colors, placing it on his shoulders. 

“Thank you,” Grandmother said, holding Blaine’s hand. “Dinner is served.”

.

Blaine was seated next to the Genovian Prime Minister, one of Grandmother’s staunchest supporters. Dad was at another table with Kurt, who sent a few longing looks Blaine’s way. The Spanish Ambassador was on Blaine’s other side, the French Ambassador across from him, and the Prime Minister’s wife completed the table. Grandmother’s seat was left empty as she visited each table for a few moments. She had already warned Blaine that he would accompany her halfway through the meal, for a slightly more personal introduction. 

“Call me Karl,” the Prime Minister said. “This is my wife, Maria.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Blaine replied. “I’m sure you have a lot to teach me, sir.” 

“Oh, please, just Karl,” he said. “Now, what has your grandmother told you about the Genovian pears?” 

Karl, it turned out, had an orchard of his own. By the time Grandmother came to fetch Blaine, both of the Ambassadors had been drawn into a discussion about fruit exports and which smoothie (of pear, peach, strawberry, or mango) tasted the best. 

“Excuse me, gentlemen and madam,” Grandmother said. “I most borrow my grandson for a few minutes.” As they all hurried to stand, Grandmother waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, please, stay seated. Enjoy your meals, please.” 

“Thank you,” Blaine told the table at large. “This has been an enjoyable and informative discussion.” He gave them what Kurt called his _I’m charming, don’t you adore me?_ smile and took Grandmother’s arm. 

It would be awhile before Blaine could match all the names to the faces (he still had trouble with Joseph’s men), but he was able to speak to them all with what he thought, he _hoped_ , was knowledge and kindness and so much charm they couldn’t help but love him. He knew a little something about them all, from Grandmother’s lessons on Genovia’s politics and policies, and he just naturally _liked_ people until they did something to earn his anger or disdain. He just talked to them, all these people Grandmother had invited, and he smiled, and he laughed at their jokes, and any time he got lost, he would simply pause for a moment and smile some more and say, “I’m sorry, what was that?” and the conversation would move on.

But finally, _finally_ the dinner was done, and Grandmother said, “Ladies and gentlemen, now the time has come for the fun part of the evening.” Blaine escorted her to the ballroom where they shared the first dance with everyone watching, and Blaine kept catching Kurt’s eye, smiling. 

Blaine missed whatever cue Grandmother gave, but when the music ended, Kurt was right there, looking so gorgeous Blaine wished they were back in either of their rooms, holding out a hand. “May I have this dance?” he asked. 

Grinning, Blaine said, “Yes, yes, you may.” 

“You’re perfect,” Kurt whispered in his ear, holding him close. “Everyone in this room loves you.” He chuckled, using his low voice, the one that did odd things to Blaine. “Well, except maybe that scary couple skulking over there,” he corrected, nodding over Blaine’s shoulder. “I think they’d get the throne if you turned it down.” 

“Too bad for them,” Blaine said, staring up into Kurt’s eyes. “I love you. So much.” 

Kurt didn’t even look around. He smiled, his small, true smile, and he leaned down for a kiss – short, sweet, perfect. “I’ve loved you for so long it feels like forever,” Kurt murmured before pulling away. 

Something occurred to Blaine as the music ended, and he tried, but he really couldn’t contain his laughter. He muffled it in Kurt’s shoulder and Kurt hummed something, but the next song started and they just kept dancing until Blaine regained control. 

“What was that about?” Kurt asked quietly. 

Blaine grinned at him. “ _I’m_ the prince,” he said. “That makes _you_ Kate Middleton.” 

Kurt’s laughter was muffled in Blaine’s neck, but Blaine caught several indulgent smiles. No one was glaring, no one was muttering, no one was scowling. 

Yeah, Blaine could do this, with Kurt at his side.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burt was waiting in the hall, Mom had gone upstairs to read one of her murder mysteries (that bounty hunter chick, Kumquat or something), and Finn sat himself on the couch. He and Kurt needed to talk.

Burt was waiting in the hall, Mom had gone upstairs to read one of her murder mysteries (that bounty hunter chick, Kumquat or something), and Finn sat himself on the couch. He and Kurt needed to talk. They hadn’t had a nightcap of warm milk in months. Not since things with Blaine heated up, back in March. Eight months. Almost a year. Like a _boyfriend_ is more important than a brother or something.

Finn crossed his arms, scowling at the wall. Just thinking about Blaine pissed him off. If the dude had just stayed at Dalton, things would’ve been fine, but he followed Kurt to McKinley and started trying to take over. Like he’d been there from the beginning or something. He didn’t suffer with the rest of them, so why should they listen to him? Finn had been glad when he started skipping practices, but then he took Kurt with him when he quit, and that just wasn’t cool. At all. 

The door opened; Burt rumbled something, locked it behind Kurt, and said, as they walked into the den, “Night, Kurt.” 

Kurt was smiling. He looked younger, softer, _happier_ than he usually looked these days. It actually made Finn pause to stare at him, while Kurt told Burt, “Night, Dad.” 

His smile dropped away as he looked at Finn. “Yes?” he said, biting the word off, making it sharp. He sounded more like the kid Finn used to drop in dumpsters than some prep-school prince’s boy-toy (he really needed to stop listening to the guys in the locker-room). 

“We just… haven’t talked in a little while,” Finn said, looking down at his shoes. His anger had mostly faded, since Blaine hadn’t been in glee stealing the spotlight. He just really missed Kurt. 

Kurt laughed, that same cold laugh from the day he quit glee. “You shut me out, Finn. You woke up one day hating my boyfriend, and you didn’t seem to like me much anymore, either.” He shrugged. “I’m staying out of your way, Finn, and so’s Blaine. I’m not sure what else you want.” He carefully eased his way around Finn and headed for the stairs. He was almost there before Finn found his voice.

“Wait, Kurt!” he said, lunging forward to grab Kurt’s arm. 

Kurt pulled away, spinning around. “Don’t touch me,” he hissed. 

“I’m sorry, sorry!” Finn said, holding his hands up and backing away. “I just - _you_ shut me out when Blaine became your whole world, and I think you’re too wrapped up in him, and he _stole_ you, but now he’s a prince, so of course you won’t ever dump him, and – ”

“Finn!” Kurt whisper-shouted. “Breathe.” 

Finn breathed. 

“Now, count to ten,” Kurt ordered. He waited while Finn did, and then he said, “Start over. You think Blaine _stole_ me?” 

Nodding, Finn crossed his arms again. “Even after you came back to McKinley, you were still driving out to Westerville all the time. He was always over here. But then he came to McKinley and tried to take over glee, and he was all you ever talked about. You never went anywhere without him.” Finn shrugged, glancing between Kurt and the floor. 

“Wow,” Kurt said faintly. “Do – does everyone feel that way?” 

Finn nodded. “But now he’s a prince, Kurt. He’s gonna be runnin’ a whole country. You’re not just goin’ to New York anymore, are you?” 

Kurt shook his head, chewing on his lip. “After graduation, we’ll be going to Genovia,” he said, sounding almost excited. Finn wondered if he’d be jumping up and down, if the rest of their conversation hadn’t happened. After giving him a long, assessing look, Kurt said, “None of you ever tried to talk to me about your concerns. And to be honest – I do still care for all of you, but for awhile there, I wasn’t sure any of you cared about me.” 

“Kurt,” Finn tried, but Kurt raised an eyebrow so he zipped his mouth shut.

“No, Finn,” he said. “Not tonight, please. In a couple weeks, maybe, we can talk, alright? But not this weekend.” 

“You promise?” Finn asked. 

Kurt nodded, nearly smiling. “I promise, Finn. Over Thanksgiving break, we’ll sit down with warm milk and talk about everything you want to talk about.” 

“Okay.” Finn nodded firmly. “Over Thanksgiving break.” 

Kurt went up the stairs. Finn went back to the couch and turned off the lights, sitting in the dark for a long time.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt’s favorite part of Genovia was being able to walk around with his boyfriend, holding hands, sharing quick little couple kisses, cuddling in public.

Kurt’s favorite part of Genovia was being able to walk around with his boyfriend, holding hands, sharing quick little couple kisses, cuddling in public. Maybe it had to do with the two bodyguards and the fact that everyone knew Blaine was the Crown Prince, but still – he felt _safe_ in Genovia. 

Blaine had even almost mastered French, though his accent was still atrocious. Total immersion really seemed to work. 

Kurt called Dad every morning (night in Lima) and shadowed Charlotte until lunch, which he shared with Blaine and Clarisse whenever she was available. In the afternoon, he sat in on Parliament or meetings; Blaine and Clarisse had the important seats, of course, but Kurt took his own notes and gave his opinion whenever asked. 

Kurt wasn’t sure he’d ever have actual power over Genovia, per se, but Blaine and Clarisse appreciated his thoughts. 

In the evenings, he sketched and wrote and sang with Blaine. Over the summer months, they actually performed for the staff a few times, to standing ovations. 

At night, he and Blaine shared a bed and no one even _blinked_. Everybody knew he’d be Blaine’s husband one day, and that he was taking everything seriously, and he just _really loved_ Genovia.

He loved Blaine, too. And Blaine was in his element, completely blossoming under the responsibilities he’d been given, and the trust placed in him, and a part of Kurt – a small part, mind, but still _there_ \- didn’t want to go to New York. Wanted to stay in Genovia, in this little safe haven.

But time was up. He and Blaine were flying to the Fort Wayne International Airport, where their dads were waiting, and they’d spend a couple days in Lima before driving to New York, where Clarisse had bought them a _townhouse_ for however long they’d be in New York. Eliot and Joseph, as well as three other bodyguards, would be sharing the space, and Blaine was enrolled in NYU while Kurt would be starting Julliard. 

His dream, for as long as he could remember. Blaine was asleep on his shoulder, Eliot and Joseph were deep in discussion about firearms, and Kurt felt so _exhilarated_. 

“Take a breath,” he whispered, resting his cheek on Blaine’s head. “Count to ten.” He counted in French, German, and Spanish, and noticed as he murmured, “Treinta,” that Blaine’s eyes were open. 

“Hey, babe,” Blaine muttered, grinning sleepily. “We there yet?” 

“Almost,” Kurt told him. “You can go back to sleep. I know you didn’t get much last night.” 

Blaine’s grin shifted into a smirk. “Like _you_ did.” 

Kurt blushed, glancing back at Joseph and Eliot, but they were still neck-deep about bullets. Blaine was laughing when he looked back, and said, “I really like it when you blush.” 

“Believe me, I know,” Kurt told him, sitting up. It knocked Blaine off balance and he fell into Kurt, laughing again. “You’re such a dork,” Kurt muttered. 

“Hey, I’m the _Prince_ of Dorks,” Blaine said, faking a haughty tone. “Don’t you forget that _you’re_ the prince’s boyfriend.” 

Kurt nudged his shoulder, humming ‘Teenage Dream.’ Blaine murmured it, in English until Kurt nudged him again, and then he shifted to French. He stumbled a few times, of course, but it was still _so_ hot. 

_I love you so much, you gorgeous, adorable boy,_ Kurt thought. _And one day I’m going to marry you_. 

Lima, New York, then back to Pyrus. Back to Genovia, and the rest of their lives.


End file.
